Return to Chicago
by Kait Hobbit
Summary: Elizabeth Masen died in 1918, leaving behind her beloved son Edward. Now ninety years later, more than just Elizabeth's ghost resides in the Cherry Lane home, Edward's returned and this time with Bella. Working Epiloug for 1918.
1. Coming Home

D: If I really owned this, I'd have a lot more zeros and a few commas added to my paycheck. Don't own anything, just a few flash drives and a cell phone rest prop. of Stephenie Meyer

AN: So last year around this time I introduced you to Elizabeth Masen as I imagined her; a year later, I'm fiddling with some stories I found have developed from last summer and I decided what they hay, lets bring lizzie back. **FYI: bella's pov is in the _italics _so don't confuse her with Elizabeth. **So here's a little short story i've been fiddling with. Remember to leave a review, because after this chapter, I'm rather lost on direction. Happy Reading--Kait

Chicago

It is a universal truth that all humans die. It's like breathing, all that live someday will die, Father Michaels taught me as a little girl in Sunday School. It is something that I have experienced. I buried my little William and Anna when they where babies, and I then would experience it for myself.

I, Elizabeth Sophia Taylor Masen, of 254 Cherry Lane Chicago , died September 30th, 1918 of the Spanish Influenza. The obituary, put out by my _Cousin, _Carlisle Cullen reported that I was thirty-nine, and proceeded in death by my most beloved husband of twenty years, Edward Andrew Masen, by three days and was survived by one son, my dearest Edward Anthony.

I didn't have a Funeral service, just like countless others who died during the epedimic of 1918. I was quiet alright with that. Rather I shared a service with the others, my husband, our servant girl Sherrie, neighbors and total strangers. I remember that day it rained on Chicago. The papers would say it was God's way of washing the city of it's illness when rather it was Mother's tears falling from heaven for the children and loved ones we left behind.

But that day was along time ago. Chicago is still a bustling city. Skyscrappers taller then I could ever have dreamed decorate downtown, but nothing has the power to take away from the beauty of the remaining Victorian homes on Cherry Lane, especially on a September afternoon like today, I believe as I look out from the roof of my former home. The roses are enjoying their last bloom, just like they had the week I died. And my Husband, and our dearest Sherrie. The air is crisp and warm, showing that the sun is still present in the day.

The sun is setting again. I could feel the warm rays leave the roof. Twilight, yet again, falls on the city. I feel an eerie peace, a quiet sensation as I feel something stir within me.

My ninetieth anniversary of that death is today, in a hour or two to be exact.

As allowed in my new residence, the Heavens, Nirvana, Afterlife—however people term it, I am allowed to return to my former residence for three days on the anniversary of my death. Eddie, my husband, doesn't understand why I keep such a constant vigil at our old home on Cherry Lane. After all, I can see everyone, they can't see me; and regardless to wither or not I'm alive or dead, I don't like being alone. That's why we kept Sherrie for most of those years. They have joined me on my returns in the past, but not this time. This time I wander alone, my sadistic ritual has become a bother to say for the two of them.

I am alone, just wandering the upstairs of my Chicago home. I am, after all, a ghost. Normally, these days are boring. Little of anything has ever truly happened in these ninety years that causes me to mourn when my three days are up and I'm called up to have a book discussion with Edna Whiticker, my sisters and mother. There have been a few various days in which I wished I could stay, and those would be the days that I saw my son, my darling little boy, my Edward.

I haven't _seen_ Edward since 1959; in that year, he and his _new_family had briefly stayed at the house while Carlisle made the necessary arrangements to move to a new location in Washington State. There was a girl that appeared Edward's age and her bulky husband that stayed in the guest room that had last been occupied by Sherrie Keeley. Also, there was the one that I knew and loved deeply, Carlisle, and his new mother Esme. I was warry at first of this woman, but I have been the mother of her little boy that died since she took my son into her care. It's not an even trade, but I suppose it will do, and I love little Thomas. He is very different from Edward as a baby, his golden curls and compassionate eyes have always won me over.

I hadn't seen anyone since 1990 when a team that specialized in Restoration of the turn of the century homes came by on orders of Mrs. Esme Cullen and _her_ son Edward. It had been a very boring three days, and loud as the team restored the floor tiles, the foundation, and dusted everything from the chandelier to the door knobs, only sparing what had been my study. Edward didn't want anything touched in that room for some reason, so I find my dreaded typewriter keys frozen in the same way they have been for nearly a century. I believe that was the one year I voluntarily left early, construction humor and the noise being too much for me.

I hadn't held my son since we both lay dying in the hospital, 1918. The events of those two weeks between September and October had left their marks on us permanently. While I floated between the heavens and my last residence, my son was forever halted; trapped , despite his age, in the body of a seventeen year old. It is hard enough for a mother to think that she'll never see her son alive when there is a world war going on, as I had begun to worry my last days in mortality. However, it isn't as unbearable as living through out the eternities when you wouldn't be reunited nor could he remember. That was the cross that all mothers of vampires had to bare.

I take part responisibilty for Edward's current state. On my deathbed I had demanded that Dr. Cullen do all in his power to raise my son from his falling state. It had been some of the last words I spoke in that life,_ 'Save him;' _those had been my words. Save him from dying. Save him from having life stolen from his grasp. Save him from the angel of death.

Carlisle—that heavenly saint—had listened to my dying words. I hated, and loved him for it, everyday of my afterlife. I hated that I wouldn't see him again, till the end of all things had come to pass and all be restored under the hand of the Lord. As soon as Lion and the Lamb actually happened, I'd see my Edward again.

I loved that he lived, that he was able to continue on with his stilled heartbeat, but I had been there for the dark years. When he had rebelled, as any young man would. It was September30th of 1935. He walked into the house, and up the stairs to my sitting room where he realized that he couldn't "hunt" humans anymore; His tearless sobs of hatred and weakness in himself seemed to tare not only him, but myself as well. I did try my best to comfort him that night, but then we reach the ture hardship of my afterlife, _he can't see me._

But none of this matters because it is September 30th 2008 and the familiar sound of Edward's voice can be heard outside the front door in the cool Chicago night. The sun has set, and a light, musical laugh accompanies his own deep one. I stand atop of the stairs, dressed as I was before I left for the hospital all those years in a Sapphire evening gown, looking down and waiting for the doorknob to turn.

My Son is finally home, the excitement is rushing through me. The door knob jiggles slightly and then opens to show a smiling young man, his hair glowing with warm off the setting sun, his perfect teeth showing through that crooked smile I love best; the only thing that will be missing is his green eyes—but that isn't what captures my attention. No, what does that is the young woman who's in his arms being carried bridal style over the threshold.

* * *

_" I am perfectly capable of walking Edward," I started as I looked up at Edward's jovial eyes, feeling the blissfull security of being held in his arms. I wouldn't trade this opportunity for anything, even if my stubborn independence begs otherwise. There is nothing better, more blissful, jovial, heartwarming than being held in his arms._

_"I know you can my dearest Mrs. Masen," Edward returned with a continuing smile, "Just let me keep on doing this right," he started, beginning to set me down on my two feet as he went back to the cab to get our two suitcases. I look at this new building I've found myself in. The entry way, seems to be stuck in an Anne of Green Gable's world. The Navy curtains and white lace draperies, the cold oak wood floors and wall paneling. It is nearly empty of all furniture, save a Victorian chair sitting next to the winding staircase, a end table on it's other side._

_Casually I walk over to discover the bouquet that Charlie had sent, probably under Renne's counsel, of Wildflowers and Freesia. However, it isn't the flowers that capture my eyes, it's the black and white photograph sitting next to them._

_I look casually at first; its a little boy at the beach , possibly at the nearby lake. He's dressed in a little sailor out fit, shorts and hat to complete it's desired direction. A woman, his mother, sits near him in the picture, both of them smiling over a sand castle._

_" You wouldn't believe how badly mother sunburned that day," a voice started behind me, as the owner's arms wrapped themselves around me._

_"This is you?" I asked looking at him with raised eyebrows looking at the honest face he always portrayed. "I was a little boy once too," he smiled, taking the picture from my hands and looking at it himself. " You know I can't remember my human life well, but Mother wrote diaries and wrote about this expedition. Would you believe that I dumped sand on a little girl who came over and wanted to build the castle with me?"_

_I snickered, "Possibly, depends, you thought she had cooties right?" My hand went up to reach his face. His cool left hand pressed mine into his cheek. "I honestly didn't think anything of her. Who ever she was, she knew I was friends with Quincy Whiticker."_

_"With no ill feelings towards this friend, from what I've heard from you makes me think he was a 1918 Mike Newton," I grin trying to soak in yet another great moment as this. Edward's face seems unchanged, save his eyebrows that are pondering my diagnosis. "Bella, do you really think that I would ever be friends with someone like Michael Newton?" he asks, sarcasm rolling in every word._

_"No," I answer with a smile, as he takes my hand from his face and drops it to his side. "But I can if you'll hold my hand again," I start, wondering what has led to its fall from his face. "Come on," he starts, grabbing my hand again, pulling me close into his arms as he whispers in my ear "Let me show you our home."_

I follow these two down the halls of my home with eyes trying to soak in everything. What's her name? I long to know. They're married? I realize, gathering the context of their conversation when they entered the home. Is she a vampire too? Is this their honeymoon? How did this happen? _Who is she?_

* * *

In 1917, shortly after Edward turned sixteen, Edna and I began having conversations about when our sons married. Edna had two grown sons that had already been joined in matrimony to two lovely girls of high class. She was more than welcome in counseling me on how to select a good bride for my Edward. She loved her son Derek's bride Melinda, the daughter of a prominent judge in Philadelphia, but she had only wished that she had been more selective when her son Samuel had been stubborn enough in marrying his Charlotte. '_Nothing,_' Edna spoke as I had drank my tea, "Was more heart wrenching then knowing that your son had married below his class."

I had given a quiet nod. I knew Edna was one not to be trifled with on the matters of her son's happiness. I knew very well that Quincy, a month senior than Edward, had matches already going through Edna's mind. She wouldn't let the same mistake that hit Sam hit her youngest son. However I didn't think that there was anything wrong with the match. Sam and 'Charlie' as she liked to be called, were in love. Yes, Charlie was the daughter of immigrants that had come to Chicago from Ireland, but they were an established business family. If anything, she brought just as much as Sam to the marriage.

"When your Edward marries," Edna continued on as though she was a Queen deciding on the matter, "You will need to find a Melinda for Edward. You only have one shot dear Elizabeth, to have a child marry well. I have a great neice that would suit very well for Edward—"

"I trust Edward's judgement. She just has to love him as much as I and all will be well with me." I answered in full honesty. After all, Edward's judgement was sound and I did trust him more then I would most people of his generation.

"As would we all like to say Elizabeth. However judgement can be clouded in the realms of love, and you could someday find yourself eating those pretty little words you just spoke."

I cared less for Edna's counsel at the time. I tried to dismiss the images of me being the dreaded Mother in Law and cast Edna's talk to be out of the stress of the upcoming marriage for her niece. However, that morning I began to wonder what it was going to be like when Edward walked in to St. Anthony's Cathedral with a girl dressed in white and lace cover face. Would I be judgmental as Edna was to my new daughter in law, would i be the vain of her existence? Would Edward's opinion of me drop as it had with Sam Whittaker?

A year later, as we lay dying in 1918 I had made my last request because I wanted Edward to experience love. And now, as I climbed the stairs following the two I realized that he finally had.


	2. Hippies in the Study

* * *

Chapter Two:

AN: Please remember to note our favorite Vampire and his sweetie are in _italics _while Elizabeth and Co. are in regular print.

* * *

_"Edward, how many rooms does this house have?" I asked as we reached the end of one hallway. When we had pulled up in the taxi cab, the house seemed as though it would be rather small. Just a victorian style townhouse, surrounded by those of it's own kind. A hundred years old with strong trees stood as the witnesses of a century's social development. I was under the impression when Edward talked about this house that it was small and quaint. An hour and half after the fact I had learned that the Masen Family Manor was anything but small or quaint. It was massive._

_"Grandmonther wanted a large house," Edward shrugged simply. "Only the best for her only son—and her desired grandchildren," he smiled casually as we reached another hallway. "You've seen the kitchen , dinning room, the reception room, the downstairs library—"_

_"And the guest room, your father's study, your study, your old bedroom, what else is there?" I asked impaciently. We stopped infront of two French doors, white lace curtains covering the window panes from the other side. "Mother's study."_

_I followed them as they entered the room. Bless that son of mine, everything was just as it had been nine decades. I examined the girl's expression as she looked at the wall full of books, family portraits and china knick-knacks. Her hand traced the outline of my day bed, before she sat down on it, looking casually at the foot of it at my first edition copy of Sense and Sensibility. It had been the book Eddie gave to me following our engagement-- Another smile crosses my face as I realize Edward placed the bookmark just were I had all those years ago—_

_"Chapter 48—When Edward returns," she mused quietly to herself, picking it up and touching the spine carefully, as though she feared touching it would lead to it turning into dust. Pehaps I could grow to like this girl. After all, she knows the classics, and it appears that we never will argue, as I am the dead and she possibly the undead...maybe this marriage won't be that horrific.._

_"Was this was her room?" she asked Edward, who had joined her now on the day bed, a little too close then I would have liked._

_"Every room had mother's touch to it. Flower arrangements in the reception room, apron designs in the kitchen—even the picture frames were to her liking, but this one most defiantly was her own," he pauses looking at a bookshelf full of my effects. " When ever she and Father went on travels she would come home with a trunk of new items to display, most of them books, photographs, paintings— when I was old enough to accompany them father and I apparently would make bets on how much mother'd bring home for Edna, Sherrie and the house."_

_"You know, Esme, she always has been doating, ever caring and motherly, but Carlisle always speaks in almost a revernece about my mother. As though she was a saint only to be mentioned in the most respect--I wish I just knew more about her... other than her hatred for corsets and collective spoons..."_

_"Not your everyday Victorian mother was she?" the girl asks again, leaning on Edward's shoulder as he once again takes her hand. "No, no she wasn't," he laughs._

* * *

My head suddenly tilts, Of course I wasn't the everyday Victorian Mother--good heavens, Edward was just born when Victoria died; the thoughts of what my proper lable in society was driven away as I watched the two move closer and closer...Maybe investing in those prewett collecive spoons would have been a good idea, I'd have something shiney to focus my attention on rather then the two speaking in hushed tones.

I feel suddenly as though I am a stranger intruding on a tender moment as I watch my son lift his wife's hand and kiss it tenderly. I move to sit down on the piano stool so that I might have a better glance at this girl who's being rocked by my little boy, and as I do I notice a flash on her hand that I'd recongnize any where.

I look at my own left hand, and see the memory of it still there. My wedding ring. The dainty band that Eddie had placed on my finger a century ago. The feather light gold that was wrapped around and nestling the shimmering diamonds that sparkled with even the faintest amount of light.

I had never taken it off. Except for the occasional trips to the Lake, it had always rested on my hand, from the moment the Priest had blessed the rings until the present moment, I had always worn that ring; and now it was placed on Edward's bride's finger.

"So this is home?" the girl asked, lifting her head off Edward's shoulder. I watched as he cupped her face in his hands. "Yes sweetheart, this is home."

I stood not even a foot away, watching as he lifted her face towards him slowly and then began to kiss her lips sincerely at first and then it came to a point at which I know it was a good thing Grandmother Masen was long since dead; my eyes set on my diamond, glittering on her hand as it raced through and knoted in his hair.

"Lizzie," a voice called from the doors. I looked over to see my husband staring at the two engaged in what appears to be a contest on who can eat the other person's lips first, and then myself. I walked over to my husband, forever young in his eternal state, his own 1918 dress suit was as proper as everything was in the house. The only different thing was his expression, his dark hazel eyes deep with question.

As I reached his side by the doorframe, he hastily whispered, "Lizzie, did Edward sell the house to those Hippies?"

"What are you doing here Eddie, you don't usually come down?" I smile, ignoring the question. " I thought you'd like the company—but these Hippies—"

I couldn't help but chuckle. The last time my Eddie had come for his death-day visit, it was the 1960s. "Eddie dear, those Hippies would be your son, and our daughter-in-law," I started, trying to think of the kindest way to portray my feelings for the new union, turning my glance back to my husband and away from the two, who had stopped embracing and were now talking something about boundries that must be kept, just for a while longer.

Eddie turned so quickly that his golden rimmer glasses nearly flew off his face. "Our daughter-in-law? Edward married—" he looked at the girl and then at Edward. "I thought he was a vampire—"

I gave a nod, knowing slightly were this was going. While I was able to somewhat grasp what had happened to Edward in those early days, Eddie hadn't. The thought that your son is a vampire is very hard to sell to parents, especially parents who grew up reading Bram Stoaker's tales. The fear of your only son being cursed to eternal damnation, or being staked through his chest by a Van Helsening is a rather harsh pill to swallow.For that reason, Eddie tries and deny that Edward is a vampire—he's 'just stuck' is how he phrased it to his mother when she asked about Edward. A side effect of the flu that killed us all, he's just stuck.

I wait for Eddie's next little statement knowing that he is about to make a series of statements that are going to leave me with a flaring temper.

"And she's married to him—"

"Judging by my wedding ring on her special finger, I sure hope that they're married," I say with a crooked smile. "After all, we always wanted Edward to find that special someone. We should be happy. Aren't you excited now he didn't marry that Chipman girl you had wanted him too..."

"You're wedding ring?" Eddie snaps, ignoring my last remark, "How did she get that?"

"Well, I'm sure Carlise gave Edward our effects before we were buried. Truth be told I'm not that upset about it anymore. It was such a pretty ring and it'd be a shame to bury it in the ground with a dead woman. Isn't it better that it can see the sunshine of another romance?" I try, using poetic language in hopes of making him crack a smile, be the Darcy that had loved me all those years and throughout the decades.

Eddie's face was back on the two of them, examining the girl's face. "She seems normal but how could that be? Is she a vampire too?"  
Irritably I answer, "Well Edward Masen, I don't know. Believe it or not, I haven't had the opportunity to sit down and welcome the girl to the family seeing as we are both dead. You know how that goes. You know the rules, the dead can only walk with the living for three days marking the anniversery of their deaths. We can see them but they can't see us," I look back at the two, she's now holding his hand as he whispers in her ear _probably a good thing they can't see us, Edward would die of embaressment..._"

"Well, in a way Edward's dead so techaniclly, he should be able to—"  
"He is not dead Eddie!" I snap, looking at Edward who is now playing a peice on the piano that's unfamilar to me, but very familiar to the girl. "If he was dead, he wouldn't be able to play the piano, or hold her close—"

"Right, right," Eddie answers, knowing he has now crossed the line. "Do we know her? Or her family I guess, any of her ancestors from the old crowd?"

"Not from what I know—I don't even think I've heard him say her name..." I sigh, trying to remember their conversations. She's been called dearest, darling, love, and sweetheart, the same love titles that have been used throughout the ages from Romeo to Casanova to Darcy to Cherry Drive itself , but Edward yets to say her name. I feel as thought that is the last peice thats blocking me from the puzzle of her idenity, "She looks slightly familiar, doesn't she?" I ask, staring at her dark brown hair and her almond colored eyes.

"I don't think I've seen her before, but that would make sense seeing how we are dead—"

"Shut up Eddie, if you're going to be the grim reaper to news, you might as well just go back now," I complain, hitting his shoulder with my hand lightly.

A smile finally cracks his angelic face, "And leave you to spending the next three days trying to unlock all these secrets, parish the thought."

"You know how I get in a foul mood when I have to dig through secrets,"I start, leaning my head on his shoulder, our attention no longer focused on the two at the piano bench, trying to unlock the mystery that is my new daughter-in-law.

Eddie unleashes a wicked smile, "Oh I know, but you have a tendency to be rather cute when your angry, how could I miss that?"

**Thanks for the reviews, Faves and other little things! Keep it up! ) Kait **


	3. Sparkling

**AN: Howdy all. Writers have the talent of writing anytime and in any place. As long as they have their trusty flash drive, a cup of something caffeinated , and characters running around in their head, it is surely possible. However, writers sometimes don't have the best memory in regards to what they saved thie work under. Long story short, the reason I haven't updated in forever, rather simple, I lost my Chicago file in my Harry Potter fan-fiction file. I know, pitiful excuse, but it's true! So here's to Chapter Three; Enjoy!**

**Remember, Bella's in _italics, _Elizabeth in regular type!**

* * *

_The colors that I have had swimming in my mind turn to blackness behind my closed eyes as the swirling melody of yet another one of Edward's songs comes to an end. "Will I ever be as breathtakingly wonderful as you are?" I ask, his cold hand now stroking my own. " Isabella, will you ever realize that you are breathtakingly wonderful already?"_

_Rolling my eyes, I give his shoulder a shove, which does nothing at all to him. "I shouldn't have bothered asking you, you're biased." I could feel the sudden chill as he took my hand that had pathetically tried hitting his shoulder. Watching with wondering awe, he closed his eyes as he held my hand against his face, reveling in the warmth conducting through it, an ice berg trying to absorb from the arctic sun._

_"How can it be biased when it's true?" he mused, opening his eyes to see the blood rush to my cheeks in its traitorous blush. How I can't wait for that blush to be banished from my existence. "Well for starters your my husband now, aren't you supposed to be biased against everything for me," I respond coolly, when I know that an easy defeat is, as always, within his sight._

_He dropped my hand and shook his head, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. "You come up with the strangest justifications Bella, but if that makes you happy to believe go right ahead. Bur remember this," he starts as I snuggle into his side, "You are far better than you think you are."_

_I smirked, laying my head down on his chest, the soothing rhythm of his breathing lifting my head and lowering it again. "So if I wanted to justify a kiss-"_

_Suddenly, his hand lifting my head gently to his own, his cold lips were on mine, slowly answering my question as the blood rushed into my head, pounding it's above average velocity in my ears that I could only hear Edward's gentle whispers in my ear. The sensation carried on its rushed consistency that only ended when he pulled away, "For that, all you have to do is ask."_

_I smile, and return to my position resting on his chest. The sun was beginning to trickle away behind the skyscrapers as it set, steeling light from the room that was becoming my favorite in the house. "Come on, I still have to show you the gardens," he motioned, helping me up as the excited glow still behind his eyes continued shining, just as they had been since we boarded the plane to Chicago._

_Ideally, I took his hand and followed him blindly up the stairs, only to turn back suddenly as the door to his mother's study shut quickly. He noticed my halt looking around at me peculiarly "What is it Bella? Don't tell me you don't want to see the roses-"_

_I looked back at the door, the curtains still shaking behind the glass, "Did you pull it closed or did that just happen?"_

_"It was probably just the wind," he answered as we continued down the hall to the side staircase leading up to the roof, " Esme and I had the renevations done years ago, perhaps the construciton crew left a draft-I'll call someone in the morning if it bothers you."_

_I shake my head still looking back at the door, "No that won't be necessary, it was probably just the wind."_

* * *

I take a double glance at the girl who is looking straight through me.

Her familiar dark hair, the almond shaped eyes, it finally clicks in as Edward sings out her name.

_Bella--_

"Eddie! It's the girl!" I say, looking at my husband who slammed the door behind our leave from the study, who is currently grumbling about needing to grease the hedges-

"What girl Lizzie? Our daughter in law the hippie-snogger, the girl that's outside and down the street, how about the girl that broke the window ten years back?..." I turn around to punch his arm, "No, the first one, Edward's wife, _Bella-_Oh I should have put two and two together when she first walked in; Eddie has Edward ever sparkled?"

I watch as my husband gives me the same confused smile that Dr. Cullen had given me when I first asked the question ninety years ago when I first met Bella-in the dream of Edward and a meadow...

I was dying when I had the dream, or in the process of.

I had dreamt, in between my bouts of medication, of walking through a foreign forest, as pleasant a hike as the amazon would be in a full gown and corset. The maze of trees, fallen logs and humidity, for all my knowledge it could have been the Amazon. The treacherous hike had ended with me in dirt up to my knees, hair both eschewed and fixed to my face with sweat. It was like dying and finding out that not only did you miss out on Heaven, Hell was hot, it was a humid, sticky, hot.

My less than descent appearance was taken from my mind however as I looked around a meadow of assured beauty. I felt the clear sunlight upon me, the gentle wind rippling through my dress, and hear the bubbling river floating down stream, mixed with the bubbling laughter of two lovers. After what had seemed an eternity in the dying ward of Chicago City Hospital, both sounds made my spirits soar.

I had looked over to discover the laughs coming from a girl caressing Edward's face as he laid his head in her lap. She loved him. It was easy as that to tell, and my son absolutely adored her entire being. Despite her wearing bloomers and Edward with his shirt fully unbuttoned, I loved the two of them together; I would have loved her regardless because my little son did. Mothers are often accused of being over protective of their sons; That is true, but his happiness as she held him pacified my protective nature.

It wasn't their romance that led to my asking of the question. Yes, Edward's eyes were sparkling but that was only because he was in embrace with her. It was when Edward looked at me that I realized that something was amidst, when he introduced me to Bella, I noticed that he was sparkling as my little heart diamond charm, rainbows dancing about his skin.

You don't exactly learn how to react to seeing your son sparkling like a piece of jewelry in your jewelry box. It simply isn't natural, nor it is truly thought of.

Edward's sparkling was startling enough to wake me from my medicated slumber and inspecting him to make sure that he was clear of the dreamt plague. I had decided that when-or if -we survived, we would go on to North Carolina so he could have sea air to fight the sparkling; it seemed more welcoming thought than otherwise.

I did take comfort and inquired after the Bella girl however; When I asked Edward he just blushed horrifically, saying that Bella was probably a girl from the Girls' Academy that had a fixation for his best friend.

When I asked Dr. Cullen about the Sparkling Side effects of the flu, he appeared uneasy, and rather horrified, as though I had breached upon some great guarded secret.

Now it all came together.

"Edward Sparkle?" Eddie gasped, raising one of his eyebrows. " Lizzie, did that _wind _knock out some of your senses? Why would Edward sparkle. He's a hippie not a-not a member of boy band-"

I snorted out a laugh, "Eddie how do you know about _those_ sort of people-"

It is best to note that, among the other side of Heaven, Eddie likes to greet those coming in. See how times have changed in a way, that's how I suspect he's heard of the Young Male Opera singers I incountered on my Death Day Visit during the mid 1990's.

"I heard some dead musician-that Queen Beatle Boy Beach Backstreet Man, whatever - talking about it a few years back-good thing we died when we did. I could hardly stand your Opera's. Having to enduring countless hours of _colorful _boys screeching and dancing in unison would have done me in. Why do you ask? He isn't wearing make up is he?"

"No, it's a long story," I say quietly, remembering Eddie was dead when the dream occurred. "Where have they gone on to anyway?"

"The Gardens. I hope that Edward's seen to it that our Roses were well tended to, they were our pride and joy after him-"

I rush and take my husband's hand and begin darting up the floor paths. "Elizabeth Sophia, what has gotten into you? Are you always like this on your death day?"

"The Sun, you have to see this Eddie..." I pant, holding his hand and the hem of my dress up as we race down the hallway and up the stairs. Our thundering pace, had we not been dead, would have been loud enough to call for the inquisitive glances of Edna from the house next door, opening the door I looked to see my son staring into the setting sun.

"Good Lord Elizabeth," Eddie pants, the _wind _knocked out of him, " What's all the fuss about-"

And then Eddie too focused his eyes on Edward, with the appearance of many diamonds crushed into his skin; smiling as he looked into Bella's dancing eyes.

"Elizabeth, Edward, He's He-" my husband stammers, lifting his hand towards our son.

"He's sparkling," I faintly smile, "He's sparkling."

* * *

AN: Poor Mr. Masen, I do think he struggles the most with my fan fiction writings. Well, this more or less finishes the introduction to Mr. and Mrs. Edward Cullen-Masen, Masen-Cullen, Masen-Cullen-Swan whatever. Like all good fan fics, and according to the lovely Greeks that wrote the laws of writing, there must be some climax or I've just fed you all meaning less junk food. To be perfectly honest, I'm struggling there. I have an idea or two, but I'm not really sold on either of them. So, if you want to give suggestion, or are just dying to see something, drop a note. Thanks for reading, and for your constant support. Remember to leave a review and as always-Kait Hobbit.

* * *


	4. Vampires, Werewolves and Ghosts, Oh My!

D: Characters Prop. of Stephenie Meyer, story line property of Me!

AN: In our last epiosode of _Return to Chicago_ Elizabeth nearly killed her already Dead Husband by showing him their son who was in the garden sparkling like a diamond, after Elizabeth realized that Bella was the girl from her dream ninety years ago-This week, Bella's own death day draws near, Edward is tempted with a speedboat, and then takes a opportunity to out do the Quilite Ghost stories with one of his own. Is Bella going to be a Vampire? Is Edward going through an idenity crisis? Of course not, Read on-

Also because this is a bit longer, Bella and Elizabeth are seperated by the Lines rather than Italics, sorry, that's just how this chap will roll-KH

'I don't know what you wanted most out of this trip," I smile at Edward. "To show me _our _house, to show me the gardens, or just to show off you sparkling."

"How about just trying to make your last day's memorable?" he sighed, sitting down on the ironwork bench among the white roses, a marble Greek god amidst his marble roses.

I quickly follow, sitting at his side. "I suppose that's another factor-I wasn't thinking about that."

"You never really do," he says, taking my hand. We sit there a while, he staring off into space before turning and looking into my eyes, digging for an answer to the question, "Bella, is this the life you want?"

"Edward, I married you, that should be an answer enough," I start, looking at him inquisitively. "I've held up my side of the bargain, and you've fulfilled part of your own," I start, my traitorous blush rising as I continue, "We've bound ourselves in every possible way, why not-it's not that horrible-_don't you want me for forever?"_

He looks at me appalled, "Of course I do, I just want to make sure you know you haven't sealed the envelope yet. If you don't want to, you surely don't have to face those days of pain for an existence you might regret."

I reach my hand up, turning his face towards me. "Edward, You know how much it took for me to go through Alice's Wedding Shenanigans. I _choose _you, I still choose you, forever, you are my choice. Nothing's going to change that," I look at him, hoping that somehow my words have eased his brow. "Please Edward, you know that you're my heart-now and when it stops beating."

He looks at me with his topaz eyes, staring harsh and long, as though he is trying to analyze everything I've just spoken. "You still have a few days Bella, no need to rush it."

"When did you change Edward?" I ask looking down at James' scar nonchalantly.

"Ninety years ago today," he says casually; "October 3rd was my first day as a full fledged vampire.

"_Today?" _I inquire, taken aback. "And you didn't tell me? Good grief, I would have gotten you a present or something-so this Friday, that's like your birthday?"

"I suppose you could think of it that way," He says, shaking his head, "And Bella please, don't get me anything."

"Oh come on Edward," I plead, trying to rack my brain of something that I could possibly pass off that he'd be happy with, "How about tickets to a concert-or maybe we could go to a show-sailing on the Lake, we could rent a speed boat. If you want we could _buy _a speed boat! I'll have to wear a life-vest, but that's not anything too big, it'll keep you happy and you'll be comfortable driving fast-what are you laughing at?"

He places his arm behind my head and stops his chuckling. "I was just imaging you getting a sunburn and stuck in a large orange floatation device for an entire afternoon," he smiled. "It's fine Bella;" he says, his face suddenly serious. "Having you forever is a gift enough for me."

* * *

"Where does he come up with these lines?" Eddie asks from his seat next to the door, "He wasn't this suave when he was human. Or maybe he was and we never knew-"

"Do you think if we tried hard enough, we could communicate?" I ask, dreamily, looking at Edward and his wife, the first showing the slowly appearing stars to Bella who seems to be soaking in his voice more then his words.

"Now Lizzie, we can't communicate with them anymore than we can with Chimps. We are of one world, and they're of another," he says in a matter of fact tone. "But, there has to be a way. It isn't fair that I am denied my son for the rest of the world's time, and can't even welcome my new daughter-in-law," I complain, taking my eyes off the lovers. "There has to be a way around this; maybe you could go back and ask for permission from someone; it wouldn't be all to horrible. I'd simply-"

I tried to think of what I'd simply do. If Edward could see me, I would run across the room and hold him as I did when he was a little boy; I'd rock him in the chair Eddie had made for me when he was born. I'd kiss his hair, I'd memorize his laugh, I'd feel the feeling of his hand in my own. I'd memorize his very smile, I'd ask him so many questions. About his new life. About Dr. Cullen and his wife Esme; I'd ask how they got along, did they all live a happy family life? Where had he traveled, had he remembered me ever? Could he? And Bella, how had he met her? Was there such a meadow as I had dreamed?

As for Bella, I'd hug her as if she was my own daughter and want to know everything about her. I'd want to know where she grew up? How long she knew Edward? How he had proposed? What was the wedding like? How had he made her laugh? Had they ever had a time where they had cried? Fought? When did she know she loved him? Was she to become a vampire? How did she feel about that? How did her mother feel about that? How does Edward feel about this? Dr. Cullen?

"You'd simply?" Eddie asks, looking at me skeptically as though he knew every question that had just danced through my head.

"I'd simply die again at the overjoyed happiness they have for each other," I exhale, looking at them again, "He has everything we ever had Eddie, just like we always hoped he would."

My husband stands to my side, cupping my face in his soft hands, "Lizzie dear, there isn't anything we can do. We are dead. At the end of the day, we always, bodily, will be dead. As odd as this Bella must be to have fallen in love with our vampire son, I doubt she can see dead people."

"But there has to be some way-there has to be some way for us to-" I start, slowly loosing my Victorian cool, so you could say, giving in to my weakest emotions.

"Hush hush," he chimes, taking his arms around me. "Maybe there is a way," Eddie says, stroking my hair in efforts to sooth me. " I don't know if it would work, but it's possible-"

"What Eddie?" I ask, lifting my head to look at him, my eyes growing larger and larger.

"Well, that old typewriter that I bought you, remember the little red one that you loathed with a passion?" he asks, "Well, what if-what if you could type on it; if maybe that could give you the connection that you desire?"

"Type a message on the type writer?" I ask skeptically, "Eddie, I don't know how much that would help-"

"It maybe your only option dearest," he shrugs. "Either way, it's the only answer I can give you. My Visitation time is almost up," he smiles weakly, shaking his arms back into his brown jacket. "When you do make contact with them, will you welcome Bella for me and tell Edward congratulations, and-and that I love them both."

"Of course Eddie, Of course," I nod, holding on to my hand lightly, and giving the faintest of smiles.

"This is the saddest part of having died three days apart of each other Lizzie. As soon as you begin a new adventure I must leave you," Eddie starts, " When I first died, those three days were the loneliest of my existence. I wanted nothing more for you to be at my side, but I knew what that would have meant for you," he continues taking my hand more firmly into his own.

"I suppose that, in the great scheme of things, that's how it is for Edward-he wants to have his Bella, but he knows what that would mean for his her...Maybe he isn't a lost cause vampire yet; tell him to take care of her, and cherish the eternities with her," he smiled gently. If tears were possible, even in our perfect state, I'm sure Eddie would have shed one right then. He must have comprehended my gaze at him, as he suddenly looked down at me one final time. " And so my dear, I bid both you, and our son, and his charming wife the fondest of farewells, I'll see you in three days dearest."

"_When you do make contact?" _I start, thinking of Eddie's parting words;

"_If you have just half the determination that I know you do, you surly will," _he smiles, "_I love you Lizzie Masen"_

And with that, just as the setting sun, my Eddie began to fade until a shooting star crossed the night sky and he was gone.

* * *

"Ghewagard qhart guen greaking acrought?" I ask as I brush my teeth in the master suite.

"Rinse and Spit Bella," Edward laughed, sitting on the corner of the king-sized bed. I quickly spitted out the minty toothpaste and guck that had built up and took a drink of water before I began my question again; Leaning against the door frame while brushing my tangled hair I started again, "Edward what are you thinking about?"

"Oh is that what you were saying? For a minute I thought you wanted me to go out and by you sour krought," he said with a beaming smile.

"And you're still here? Why sourcrouht sounds pretty good right about now," I jested, still stroking out the snarls from my hair the shower had missed. It had been a new experience showering in a restored Victorian home-I was relieved that even then there had been handlebars in place in the event of a fall...

"I just wanted to make sure; and if that's the case, I'll stay with you till you are sleeping but after then I'm In Mother's study-"

I begin laughing and look at him with hurt eyes, "You mean you wont love me if I love crought?"

He stands up and takes my hands, rolling his eyes jestfully. "Oh, I'll always love you, but crought is right next to dogs in my sense of smell. Never liked it. You have to remember, when I died, we were at war with the Germans; you have no idea how relieved I was to have the detestable dish forever banished from dinners."

I smile and look up at him again, "You never answered what I asked, What were you thinking about? You looked as though you were thinking hard over something...other then how to politely tell me you hate German aroma's."

"It wasn't anything really, I was just over hearing the people walking by outside, they think ghosts are living here-apparently I look to pale-"

"Oh come on, a Haunted Chicago house? Who would haunt it, you're parents?" I joke in disbelief. "I hardly believe in ghost stories."

"Oh but this house has all the perfect settings for one," Edward joked as I sat down at his side. "You know, my mother's friend Edna was convinced to her dying day that my parent's ghosts wandered this house on the anniversaries of the Epidemic."

I give a laugh, not wanting to believe him, "With all do respect, I think that these Whicker's were a little messed up in the head. There isn't a possible way that story is real." I raise my head up and then look at him with questioning eyes, "I'd bet my weight in mountain lion that you're making this up to scare me."

He began a short-lived roar of laughter, remembering we were in the city and not our beloved meadow. "I'm telling the truth Bella, you know I wouldn't dare do create something that would scare you."

"Then tell me the story," I challenged, looking up at him with fiery, determined eyes.

"Fine," he answers, his topaz eyes melted into a soft caramel. "Just now for certain that if you get to scared, I'll hold you all the night..."

"I'll keep that in mind," I smile, as I adjust myself under his protective arms, leaning my head on his shoulder as he starts his ghastly tale.

"As I told you, Ninety years ago today, my mother died. A day earlier, our Irish Housemaid Sherrie also died, and the day before that it was father, all deaths within less then 24 hours of each other. When the epidemic hit, it hit hard; and Cherry Lane was one of the hardest hit with fatalities within the city. The school that I attended, St. Anthony, Thomas-whatever it was, Student Body was hit so horribly, that they had to permanently close the school. Many decided that it was time to leave the city atmosphere and go to a quieter, less crowded town; one small enough that they'd not have to worry about these raging fevers growing from the grottos and brothels... paranoia had a firm grip when the epidemic finally cleared.

Edna was a woman who had been a spoiled only daughter of a Civil War Sargent. She was pampered in the Victorian system and had a gift for easily manipulating people, as her daughter-in-laws would protest. At the beginning of September 1918, she had everything that she thought that she would ever want. Her husband was a successful Researcher and speculator; she had two married sons and one more that was 'destined for greatness' in her book; as well as a friend that she felt she could easily influence. I never realized how shallow she was until after my change-anyway, by the end of September, she had lost her best friend, only her eldest remained alive, and her Husband's job had been moved out east. Edna refused to leave. It wasn't in her agenda. So her husband often had to leave for long sprints of time to do work and then come home every other weekend. The son tried to stay but it soon became clear that his mother was loosing grips with her sanity...

She would attest, to her dying day that 254 Cherry Lane was indeed periodically haunted. All the neighbor's knew that she believed she could see mother through the windows, sitting at her vanity over there, getting ready for the Opera, just as she had before she got the call to meet us at the hospital. Other times, Edna protest of seeing Sherrie bringing in the sheets from the line, whistling her _Danny Boy, _once her son was said to be sitting in my room laughing at one of my notebooks. The one that the police got the best laugh out of was that my father in his study singing along to the gramophone, and calling for my mother to have Sherrie bring up his brandy.

When she died, a good twelve years following the ghost's departure they were convinced she had died with insanity. However there are some that say, she did indeed see those that had left long ago. It is a long told rumor that just as September dies and October is born, the ghosts of the epidemic rise from their graves, their souls rising as the church bell of St. Anthony's tolls. Given three days to wander the earth they once knew before they return back to the world they now reside."

Rolling my eyes, I touch his hand. "You expect me to believe that story?"

His hand tosses my slowly drying hair, as he bends down to kiss my forehead, then muttering in my ear, "You believe in Vampires and Werewolves, what's a little Casper?" He chuckles and I do as he pulls up the sheets and we lie in bed, his arm protectively wrapped around me.

My eyes being to close with the jet lag that's finally caught onto me, a mysterious tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat and chiming bells from somewhere outside serenading me to sleep in the dark home. _There's no such thing as Victorian Ghosts, _I think to my self, _Vampires, Werewolves and Ghosts oh my! That is utterly impossible, _the sensible half of my brain informs me as I fall into a numbing sleep. _Impossible-perhaps, but even you Bella Swan Cullen, should know that anything is possible._

An: So I'm slowly putting together the climax... slowly. Yes, Eddie is gone. He will not comeback. In full honesty I simply had him in this one because I felt bad for killing him off so quickly in 1918. Don't worry though, there will be another special guest star in the next chapter or two. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged. I'd like to tell you all that I know excatly where I'm going with this story, but I'm still trying to decided myself.

_Ideas and Inspiration welcomed Everytime. Happy Midsummer's Eve my Swedes and the rest of the world Oh, and additionally, Happy 107th Birthday Edward Cullen! May you sparkle forever on this day of the Midnight Sun! (oooh, that was good!)_

_Peace Out-Kait Hobbit. _


	5. Midnight Guest

D: I own little; only the Character of Sherrie and the crazy whitikers... all others are prop. of Stephenie Meyer

AN: Alright; As much as I hate updating at the midweek, (if you notice, i try and update on Friday) I figured since I missed last friday's deadline, I should do it now rather then later. I was at a Summer camp, (ooooh, suspense) and it looks like it's going to be that way for the rest of july so updates will be on and off. Thank y'all so much for all the kind words and encouragement in reviews; hope you like Chapter Five!Kait Hobbit

Oh, and once again Lizzie and Bella switch off... italics have just gotten to crazy for even me to put up with. States with LizzieKH

* * *

Through the milky moonlight I stare at my century's old foe: the typewriter.

I hate to be wrong. In 1918 when Eddie gave it to me as a Birthday Present, he told me that this typewriter was the gateway to the future: handwriting was from yesterday and typing was our today. I promptly told him that he was a lawyer and to stick to law books and just buy me a book, hat or a scarf. It has come to my knowledge beyond the pearly gates, that indeed Eddie was right.

The Typewriter is alive and well and has even eviler cousins: Apple and Microsoft, complete with worse demons than just the alphabet, but some CPU and a _rat_ that you have to click on little pictures to get your work done. Thank Heavens I died in 1918 rather than 1998.

I pick up a paper that is lying in my desk drawer. It's ivory, the restorers did a good job with Esme's instructions. All _is_ just how it had been. Slowly, careful to not cause ruckus that would cause Edward to come in and investigate, I creep the paper into it's slot making sure that I only have to do this tedious task once...

Slowly but surly. Loosen, then tight-loosen then...

"Good Evening Mrs Masen," A chipper voice starts walking into the room _through _the closed door. "My, Mr. Masen was right when he said that you were up to no good...I'm workin' on getting some mint tea ready for you, hope you won't think me pes'mistic, but I figure' that you'd be rather frustrated after a go around with yer typemaster again.." Sherrie smiles, sitting down on my day bed that Edward and Bella had been on just a few hours earlier.

_"Sherrie," _I sigh, hastily tightening the little paper knob, swallowing my suprise, "What in St. Peter's name are you-"

Sherrie just beamed her sweetest smile. She doesn't know it, or perhaps does and chooses to let me live in ignorance, but I always considered her my daughter since she came to work for us as a girl of twelve. Her kind blue eyes, freckled face and curly red hair, made it irresistible to love her, even if her entry did seem off. There she sat, in her blue dress and white apron, her hair pulled up and smiling, just waiting to do what ever we asked-she was more family then hired help; seeing her now made me grateful for whatever caused her to come down.

"Mr. Masen, well, after he checked in he told us all what had happened. He said that you'd seen Mr. Edward-is it true? Is the Master home?" she asked, her eyes bright and excited. "It gets better, he told us all that he's _married!_ Is it true? Young Master Edward has fallen in love?"

"Yes, Edward's married-" I start, relieved. I had always supposed that Sherrie had feelings for my son and since discovering the nuptials, I had supposed she'd be upset at the news. I try stopping her, hoping that we can pass on our information then return to doing my unorthodox communications.

Sherrie, it proved, was not willing to comply with my hopes of doing this quickly. "Oh, I can't believe it. Not that I thought'd he never get married, Lordy no, why the whole Chicago half of heaven knows that Edward be handsome enough, and a gentleman, type of boy-o that any Da would like to see courting his daughter-I just can't believe me ears, dear ol' Edward bless him! And his Lass! I bet she's as fair as ol' Clare Valley, What she like? Does he play for her on his piano? Twas always a gifted musician" she asked still excited, her Irish accent starting to carry on it's roll, "I bet she's a pretty lass, independent, but not too independent that she spaces herself from Edward. I have half the mind to say she's head strong and stubborn, seems be an attractin' trait in the Masen line-"

My hand finally cut her off, "Sherrie Kelley, I'm going to take my hand off and you're not going to say anymore. I promise you that I will tell you everything about Edward and Bella eventually, but right now, we're trying to-make contact with them-you know, trying to-"

My hand slips away, "Trying to give one last bit of motherly insight we are?" Sherrie asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's exactly it," I smile, turning back to the typewriter, "Even if I have go through purgatory to do it."

Sherrie smiles, "That's why I'm here Mrs. Masen, as always, you can count on ol' Sherrie Kelley to get the job done right." And as always, she goes through the final steps of completing the preparations for the writing.

"Like I said, I have some Mint Tea I'm preparing downstairs-don't worry, they won't hear or see anything-" she injects, looking at my intervening face, worried what Edward would do if he could hear a shrilling tea pot. "Creme and milk as usual ma'am?"

"Yes, please Sherrie," I call out as she turns to the door, then call again, "Sherrie, how did you know to come?"

She turns around and smiles, "Mr. Masen's time was up before you were done needing his help. I still have till 5 o'clock this afternoon, he asked if I could offer you my services and as you know, I embraced the invitation. If you still need help after I go, Quincy can come down for a few more hours after that."

"Thank you Sherrie," I grin relieved, as she turns around and walks once again _through _the door and lightly down the stairs to the kitchen. Leavening me prepared to write, words that I have no idea how.

* * *

My eyes open in the darkness, the shrilling sound of steam coming from downstairs; _No, it can't be-perhaps just something from the street-_

"Bella, is everything alright?" Edward asks, raising his head from the pillow. Although he can't sleep, he looks dreamy, his eyes, even in the darkness are smiling, his hair slightly eschewed. "Yes, everything's fine," I answer with a yawn, "I'm just thirsty, I think I'm just going to go down and get something..."

"Let me get it for you," he begins, getting up from his side of the bed, turning over the coverlet and starting to stand up. I beat him to it, getting a pale blue house coat from the dresser. "No, no, I want to get it. Stretch the legs," I yawn again. "Please let me go and get something,' I sigh, as he makes his way for the door.

"Alright," He yields resistant, still holding an arm over the door, blocking my way. "It will cost you a kiss and a promise though," He grins, guarding the door frame. I stretch on my toes to reach his lips, my first attempt failing with kissing his shoulder instead; finally reaching his lips with the help of his guiding hand. It's warm and sweet-just perfect. In my hazy alertness I pull away, remembering I have a mission on my mind.

"Alright, Kiss check. Promise?" I ask, starting to get more awake with the growing agitation of being parted from the door. "Promise me you won't be long, and you won't fall down the stairs, I'm rather fond of holding you without having to work around your casts." I can see smirk in the darkness. _He would know about all my casts,_ I think to myself, "Deal," I mumble and finally walk out the door and down the hallway.

The Masen Manor, as I have thought about it since Edward told me about it days before the wedding, was just as interesting at night as it was during the day. The dark oak paneling served as a guide down the many passageways around the house. Eerie moonlight served as my only guide, leaking out through the Stained-glass window. The sudden gape indicating the stairway was in sight. Gripping the rail I followed the shrilling down each step, a warm aroma filling the first floor of the house-_Mint-_Renée had loved mint; Why was I smelling my mother's favorite lotion?

The cold oak floors shock my feet, making me wish I had pulled on some gym socks rather than wander barefoot. I was no longer a warm blooded Arizona girl. The two years I had lived in Forks, as well as being in love with a Vampire had caused me to become a rather cold-prone person. _Note: Have Edward go and buy gym socks with the groceries tomorrow-_I made my final turn into the kitchen, twisting a knob that turned on a dim light within a glass lamp, slowly growing brighter and brighter till it illuminated the kitchen from the midnight darkness.

The Kitchen itself is just as it was before. Or so it seems. The curtains are drawn closed, the glasses are still held in the cabinet for display, the clock swinging back and forth in perfect harmony reading 2:00 in the morning.

However, there is something different. Something quiet unlike the usual Kitchen. The shrilling noise. If I was still at home in Forks, I wouldn't think anything more of it than yet another failed attempt by Charlie to cook but in this Victorian Mansion, nothing is as it seems.

I look to the stove and there sits a red kettle, blowing steam. I rush across the marble to pull it off, putting it on a back burner before turning off the stove. "Who put this on," I asked, trying to think if Edward had got up and boiled water for me while I was sleeping? Was he _trying _to scare me into believing that silly nonsense-

I turned around, half expecting to see him. Smirking, laughing, with the _Scared you!_ Smile lopsided on his face waiting for me to get angry and then forgive him with a kiss. But he wasn't there. Instead, in a delicate teacup, White China with blue design and gold trimmings, was a cup mint tea. It hadn't been there a minute ago when I had entered the kitchen. "Very Funny Edward," I said to myself, taking the cup in my hands and drinking the tea, sipping it quickly through my irritated pressed lips.

_Creme and Sugar,_ I noted. For a vampire, I thought, he makes a mean cup of tea, and I hate tea. When I was young, Renée had gone through a tea-phase. Black, Green, White, Carmel, Iced, Herbal, Sweetened, unsweetened, by the time the phase ended I was thankful to the Patriots for throwing tea into the harbor; it's exactly what I had wanted to do. Yet _this _tea was different. It wasn't like anything before, it almost seemed heavenly. I laughed to myself, wondering if Edward can make coffee- my thoughts suddenly interrupted by a series of creaks in the stairs, Edward must becoming down to check on me.

I stand and wait for a while, waiting for him to come in and ask how I like my suprise. _Think_ _angry_ I coach myself, trying to conjure my wrath of angry grizzlies, and he doesn't enter. "Edward" I whisper, "Edward Cullen this isn't funny anymore, Edward!"

Something didn't feel right. It didn't feel wrong either. Rather, it felt as though something very odd and very eerie had descended upon the Manor House. Something very eerie indeed.

* * *

_Dearest Edward and Bella--_

_I greatly doubt that you, my dear son Edward remember me. And I can easily see dear Bella mildly freaking out at this situation. After all, it's not everyday that you can 'See Dead People' or rather read them. This is not a charade put on by my son Bella; Edna was half right when she had her hallucinations. Poor soul never did recover from loosing Sam and Quincy. Allow me to explain; _

_On the 'Other side' there's this thing known as your 'Death Day.' It's pretty much your birthday only obviously flipped. You are given three days every year to walk the streets of your former life. Three Days after the anniversary of your death you return back to Heaven and that's the end of it. Sometimes, the three days can be enjoyable, see how things have changed, how society and old friends have evolved, other times the three days are the longest of your existence, walking alone with out friends or loved ones. If that's the case, more often then not, you return early. I tell you this so you may learn, or at least somewhat comprehend of what this is. I'm a good ghost, not a bad one, I guess is what I'm trying to suggest. After all, I'm your mother Edward Anthony, and seeing how well you've turned out, I'm a very good ghost. _

I look down at the paper. It's pathetic. My mother-in-law, always ever so dry in her complements, once told me that I was "Very eloquent on paper," always direct and straightforward, yet still composed and compassionate. The Letter I currently have is nothing more than just ramblings of middle-age ghost mother. I blame the typewriter. Technology has erased all means of proper communication.

"Oh Miss, I saw her," Sherrie smiles chipperly entering the room with one of my little white and blue teacups. "Such a small little thing; if I could-mind you it may scare her a wee bit-I'd make her me Mam's pot pie, that'd but something between her skin and bones. Such a beauty though-I can see why Master Edward picked her, just the perfect lass for him. It's so funny, watching her feeling her way around, trying not to get lost," she laughs gaily, as I sip my tea, allowing the calmness to flow through my frazzled mind.

"I wonder if she's a bit clumsy?" Sherrie suggests, sitting again on the couch. " If that's the case, Master Edward may have his work cut out for him. She seems to be the inquisitive one-half expected her to follow me up the stairs when I went up, forgot about the creaky step. First time in my Ninety-five years here-oh well, I hope she likes her tea with Creme and Sugar, left her a cup down there I did..."

My head pops up quickly, "She was out of bed?" I ask looking at Sherrie, my eyes wide. "Well yes, I guess _she _could hear the water on the boil-doesn't make sense, aren't they not supposed to hear us in our actions while we're, well dead?" Sherrie asks puzzled.

"And yet, she could?" I ask looking at the typewriter and the stupid paper I had begun.

"Well, I had gone down the back stairs to the kitchen and put water on the stove. Poured you a cup and then started dressing when I heard someone coming down the steps. She walked into the kitchen and took the kettle off the stove top. She twas confused, stared at it a while to make sure it was really there, then I set down my cup on the counter, figured I'd make me own later and then I started heading up the front stairs, where I creaked the step," Sherrie ended. "I wonder, if she can see my Kettle, and my cup of tea, do you think she could see me? Or maybe you? Mrs. Masen, what if you don't have to use this typewriter at all, what if you can _talk _to Bella?"

I shake my head, "That can't be possible, I sat right infront of her when she and Edward were in here."

"Mayhaps she wasn't looking then," Sherrie mutters, "Or mayhaps, something about night-Mrs. Masen, may I go down stairs and clean up?" Standing up from the daybed.

I nod absent-minded, "Yes, go ahead Sherrie, I'm going to try and write again.

She gives a warm, sweet smile, "Mrs. Masen, You were my adoptive Mam for near five years; what ever you write to Master Edward and Mistress Bella will be the words they need to hear. Don't worry." With that, she walked down the door and down the stairs, remembering to mind the creaking step.

* * *

_"There's no such thing as ghosts, there's no such thing as ghosts,"_ I mutter under my breath, feeling the wooden panels out of the kitchen as I make my way to the foyer. Suddenly, a shadow makes its way down the stairs. It's small and petite. Sort of like Alice's little shadow, but Alice isn't supposed to be here. She's in Prague with Jasper for their Anniversary.

Out of the darkness, a face emerges into the faint moonlight. It's pale, almost Edward pale, but a more natural pale, a human pale. A Curtain of Red curly hair is loosely falling out of a messy bun. I'd half expect this to be Victoria, but her pale blue eyes are kinder, her smile friendly and welcoming. She looks as though she is like the keeper of the house, wearing a blue dress covered by an apron that reminds me of Cinderella. She looks as though she is, forever stuck in 1918...like Edward.

"Mistress Bella, can you see me?" the voice calls. It sounds foreign, or old English, like it belongs in a Jane Austen novel more than it does in Chicago.

"P-Pardon?" I stammer, taking a double look at the smiling girl, that looks to be a little younger then I. She could be a vampire-she's has the same beauty except she looks peaceful and at rest where Edward has circles under his eyes.

Her smile returns larger then it had been at first, "I was right I was, You can see me. I told Mrs. Masen you'd be able to-wait, How did you like you're tea? Did I use a wee bit too much creame? Could I fix you something else?" she asks earnestly, waiting for my reply.

My blood is running chills. _"There's no such thing as ghosts, there's no such thing as ghosts-" _I declare, trying to exclaim in quietly in fear of my insanity, before abandoning that fear and begin rushing at full force and speed, up the stairs and down the hall to were Edward's waiting for my return.

"Bella-what's wrong?" He chuckles as I dive into the bed and snuggle close, covering my head with the sheets like a child in a thunderstorm running to the protective arms of a parent.

"Bella, what is it?" he jokes, wrapping his arms around me gently, humming my angelic lullaby. "You look like you've seen a ghost.

* * *

AN: Oooh, irony, Love it. Right, well thanks for reading now remember to review or spooky ghosts will make you tea! Kait


	6. Transylvanian Bedtime Stories

D: I own a suitcase full of camp clothes and a thing of bugspray. That's it. The end. Characters prop. of Stephenie Meyer

AN: Ha! I was able to cram one more chapter in before I go on my exodus to camps out of the wazoo. I'll be out of the writing world early next week so savor this chap b/c after this its iffy. Thank you all for your reviews, it really does make my day! Now remember, Lizzie and Bella switch off know and then at the ; other then that, read on noble readers, read on.

* * *

The morning light fills the bedroom, illuminating everything. My eyes open to me staring at the ceiling and I notice for the first time the light colors used to decorate. Soft greens against the walls, with white crown molding. The molding even has little carvings that remind me of a Grand Staircase on the _Titanic, _or some liner from long ago. I get tiered of trying to find all the tiny designs and look over to Edward, turned on his side with his hair out of place, his night shirt open slightly showing a faint glow coming from his skin as his eyes kindly smile a 'Good Morning' as he gazes down at me.

It should be against the laws of nature to wake up and see an angel sitting at your side. Luckily, I don't have much regard to the laws of nature, and it by that disregard that Vampires exist.

"And how did my Mrs. Edward Masen sleep?" He asked, taking a strand of my hair, playing with it casually before moving his hand lovingly against my cheek.

I close my eyes and give a smile; all things considered I slept quiet well, I think as I review the dreams. There had been no werewolves chasing me, no Charlie and caskets... "It was a good night, I was with you-" I start to answer until I look above his ear at a picture hanging on the wall and I see _her._

Even in the small frame, the smile and eyes make me remember; the heavenly haunting.

"Bella, Bella what is it?" He starts, noticing my eyes are not focused were they ought to be, in his own.

"Edward, who's the girl in the picture?" I ask getting out of bed and walking towards it for better examination. There she is. The red headed house keeper, in black and white, standing next to what must be Edward and his parents and a tall, well built Quincy Whicker.

"The Girl?" Edward asks casually, getting out of bed to stand behind and look over my shoulders at the picture. "Well that'd be Sherrie Kelley, our Irish housemaid."

"Did she live her?" I ask, my mind suddenly remembering with a perfect clarity the events of my tea excursion.

Edward looks at me confused but starts without any questions asked. "Well, yes and no. She lived down in the Orphanage on the southern side of the city, but the sisters would let her work her during the day. Mother often cleared it so Sherrie could stay some weekends with us; I suppose you could say she was our Foster child," he gave a slight chuckle. "Wasn't really a housemaid, but more a companion for mother while I was at school and father at his office."

"And the picture, where are you all-"

" That picture was taken when we were on a vacation at the lake, before we entered the war. Sherrie came because Edna got sick last minute and couldn't join us...thank heavens for that, she was Edna after all," he starts, ready to start his own series of questions.

"What happened to Sherrie?" I ask, looking at him with questioning eyes, "Did she-"

"Yes, Like I told you last night, Sherrie died in the epidemic. She didn't suffer long, but put up a good Irish fight. In the end, I believe most victims died when they slept, at peace," his eyes rest on me as though I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. "Bella," Edward starts quietly, 'Why do you want to know about her?"

"Edward, did I go downstairs for anything last night?" I ask, turning and looking up at him. He starts nodding, still confused. ' You went down for some water, and came back running up the stairs like you'd seen a monster. It must have been horrifying if you'd run to a vampire as fast as you did. What are you going at Bella?"

"Well, Um--I..."

I really did try and say, "Oh, I just thought I saw this Sherrie girl and she talked to me. Knew my name too. Don't know how, but she did, and it took me by suprise. After all, is not everyday you meet a ghost that knows your name, or better yet make tea." But rather I played the classic excuse,

"Oh, just saw a picture down stairs and my eyes were playing tricks on me."

There's no need to make him think I have suddenly lost all common sanity. I think he had been questioning it since we first went to the Meadow, no need to make him think I am completely loony.

He takes an arm and wraps it around my waist, pulling me around to face him, his cold hands cupping my face as he looks down at me with an apologetic grin. "I didn't mean for my little ghost story to scare you," he starts, "I'll remember to only tell you good stories before you sleep, with little sheep running away from a girl named Bo and her friend Bambi trying to find them."

I give a weak chuckle, "Don't do that, I may grow into a soft pansy and then you'll win and I'll never become a vampire."

His smile widens, "That's not a bad idea-Shall we start with Bram Stoaker for tonight's bedtime story or would you prefer darker stories from Transylvania? You've always struck me as perhaps an Agatha Christie fan, perhaps I'll go through the library sometime today; there were some books mother wouldn't let me read-"

I try punching his shoulder but as always the effect is ineffective. Instead, I give up and instead wiggle closer into his grasp as he begins humming a song so low that only the top of my hair can hear its words. "I'm only kidding Bella dear," he smiles, "Now, you go a head and get ready for the day and I'll fix you a breakfast-"

"Since when did you be come a chef?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I picked up the blue night cover from the previous night and slowly stalk toward the bathroom.

"While Alice was preparing your for the wedding for weeks on end, Emmett and Jasper threw a Bachelor party for me-as well as could be done I suppose you could say. You see, the human intention's were there but when Alice foresaw what Emmett and Jasper were planning they had to come up with different festivities...Regardless-Emmett thought It'd be amusing if my gift was a collection of films from the Food Network so I could feed you for the first few months."

"Should I be concerned?" I ask wearily, "About the Bachelor party?" Although I knew Edward was the over the top ,sometimes annoyingly moral vampire, I was a little suprised how much I worried in regards to Emmett and his values. If they were human I'd be concerned far more then I was at that moment, but still the thoughts and images of lamp shades on heads and speed racing on deserted stretches of highway distracted my world of thoughts, even more disturbed if Alice had to intervene.

"No," he smiled, "You should just pray that you never have to hear Emmett singing _That's Amore _while wearing a hairnet, up to his shoulders in Flour while Jasper argues the pros and cons of hand washing dishes versus washing machine. That would make Alice the Wedding planner seem like a desirable situation..."

* * *

"You simply had to talk to her, didn't you Sherrie?" I ask annoyed as I watch Edward pull out some pots and pans from the cabinets bellow. We were sitting at the table near by, the sun streaming through the lace curtains...Heaven's, I should have changed them out with the embroidered muslin ones my sister had given me before I died, these lace and cotton ones Eddie's mother gave simply look tacky.

"Well, in full honesty, our paths collided and it would've been rude to just let her walk past me without a word being exchanged..." Sherrie starts innocently, smiling in hopes that that would make her story fly past my grump interrogations; she needed more then hope for this one, she needed me to develop short term memory loss.

"Sherrie-"

"Ok, so I wanted to talk to her. Just to see if I 'twas right--you know, 'bout the night communications- don't you think there has to be some connection possible?" She asks hopeful that I agree.

"Well, of course I'd like to think that was possible... but how is it that she can see me and Edward can't? I was with him when he was," my mind flash back to his rebellious years, the endless nights when he would look at his reflection in the mirror, staring and cursing himself and his crimson eyes, "without Carlisle and Esme-and he never noticed me. I'd be sitting right next to him and he'd show no response."

"Well Mrs. Masen, I think there's something different 'bout this girl," Sherrie explains as Bella comes down the back stairs on cue, noticing the empty tea cup she had last night and then turns smiling and bright eyed towards Edward. "She doesn't seem ordin'ry, for the love of Ireland of course she's not. She 'tis married to a vampire, but there's something special about her. Maybe she has a strange gift, like that Nickelodeon Mr. Masen was telling us he saw back when he came a couple years back-" her voice suddenly gets eerie as she remembers Eddie's movie review from a couple years ago's death day, "perhaps she sees dead folk."

Rolling my eyes I stand up, trying to clear my head "That's absurd; I'm going to the garden...I need to think."

'Say what you will Mrs. Masen, you know you're dying to try again," Sherrie smiles, picking up some embroidery hoop she has in her apron pocket. "Try again? What on earth are you talking about Sherrie?"

"Oh you know what I be talking about Miss," Sherrie smiles widely and deep down I do; in a few matters time I'll see if she is as special as Sherrie assumes.

I turn to leave the room and cast my eyes back at Bella and Edward, the first eating what looks like colored beads from a bowl covered in milk-such a shame people don't eat oatmeal anymore-They're discussing irritable Grizzlies-Bella can't wait to see if they are as delicious as Emmett say they are, I begin wondering whither she's being serious or not before I wave it off as just another vampire inside joke. Perhaps Grizzly is code for small village in Siberia...or maybe they are _actual _grizzlies.

I look at Edward as he watches her eat and talk; his eyes are so soft, like Carmel whisks on a Sunday dessert. They are focused on every movement she makes; I have no doubt that he's allowing his ears to echoing her every word as though they are the words of a symphony, because to him, they are.

He simply smiles through it all, as though this is the life he is content with, now that she desires so strongly to share it with him, yet it seems that her words that start with "After it happens. . ." or "When I change. . ." the corners of his mouth are pulled down, and rain clouds seem to trouble his eyes. _He doesn't want this, _I realize my eyes growing wide at the discovery, _He doesn't want to have her subjected to his pain..._I look again at Bella, talking happily, swinging her feet from a high bar stool the renovation crew added, as carefree as a little girl. A pale hand tucks behind her ear what had been a stray hair. She looks up and smiles at him, "I love you, you know."

"Yes, and I cherish you," he replies soft and warmly, bending over to kiss the top of her forehead.

"Shall we let the two hav' their moment Mrs. Masen?" Sherrie asks, picking up her hoop and walking to my side. "Yes Sherrie, let's go to the gardens... I need to go to the gardens..." I stammer as we go up the backstairs, leaving the two alone for their moment.

We walk in silence up the stairs, and down the hall to the stairway leading to the gardens. "Sherrie," I begin, still walking at a slow pace up the stairs. "I have a question that I need to ask," I start turning around to see her, walking in my shadow up the stairs.

"Ask away miss, I'll do my best in answering," she smiles gaily.

We enter the gardens, the sunlight hitting the glass making the garden shine like the heavens, we sit on the little bench that Edward and Bella had the night before. "It's rather personal," I hesitate.

"Mrs. Masen, you know me just as well as me own Mam, I have nothing _personal_ that I doubt you already know," she jokes, taking out her hoop from the apron and working on a little design.

I take a breath and try and imitate calmness against my anticipation, "Sherrie, If you could have gotten a letter from your parents, after they died, what would you want it to say?"

* * *

**AN: And it is with this evil little cliff hanger, I leave you. I'm so sorry it was short, but I'm afraid it was awful longer... anyway, As you finish reading this note, I want you all to ponder that question, and ponder it well. I'm afraid that, Like our dear Lizzie, I'm struggling with this part of the story. I'm afraid there are too many things she'd want to say, to many warnings, details, motherly advice, she'd like to pass onto her son and new daughter. So please think for yourself, then if you would, leave it in your review, and we'll go from there. In other words, think as Lizzie, and answer as Sherrie.**

**As Always-Kait Hobbit **


	7. Moonlight Sonata

**D: I own a airplane ticket and money for Breakind Dawn. After that, it's a little scary. Characters property of Stephenie Meyer**

**AN: Thanks to all you loverly people that answered for the Sherrie comment last go around. This is the chapter we've sorta been waiting for. Eat, Drink and Enjoy, yet remember to review...**

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Sherrie's eyebrows puckered as she contemplated my sentence. A mix of confusion and unawareness, all wrapped into a single emotion carried her through her thoughts as the seconds of eternity awaited for her answer. "If it's too personal I understand," I start quickly, fearing that perhaps I have gone too far. "No Mrs. Masen, it's a good question, I just have to think a bit for my self, that be all," Sherrie explains, sitting down on the iron bench, the sun hitting her red hair through the glass making it look like curly fire.

"If me Mam had left me a letter," Sherrie begins as her eyes fall back to a once upon a time, "I'd have wanted a few words from her offering hope." She turned to look at me, coming back to the present. "You know somewhat of my life before I came to be your housemaid-friend. When I walked up your front steps at twelve, I had seen more pain than a girl should have to; I only told you that my parents had passed a couple years and dismissed my pass from that point on. Till the days before I got sick, I didn't think a thing of my past, the memories sometimes hurt a bit too much for liking.

My story began on an island with green hills and charming little towns. Our family were farmers, and had been for as long as the Kelley's had been in Ireland. I cried hard when we forsook Ireland, My Da had had enough of getting letters from his brother-in-law in America, talking about the beauties and success of being in that country. Ma always knew there was something more to be had, she had been just a little lass when the potato crops failed. She never wanted to hear her children crying for food at night. After another failed crop, it looked like America was a possibility, but it was only after the deaths of my elder siblings Lettice and Tommy we decided there was nothing left of a future in Ireland and we then bought the tickets and prepared to sail to Boston.

When we left, I left me grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and my friends. My whole world consisted of that village of three hundred. We traveled on a small little boat that rocked horribly when the sea stormed. I hated the trip. When we landed in Boston it was still hard to be an Irishman. My Da felt horrible having taken his family to this new found land only to be refused service at a lodge house because he was an Irishman. That's why we tried our luck in Chicago, it was supposed to be more diverse, more of the America my parents had heard about.

But not even Chicago would be happy for us. Ai, for sometime it seemed as though we might make it yet. We shared a little apartment with another family, Mam and I would work tending Children while Da worked in a Meat packaging factory. It was the factory that killed them I think. They just didn't clean it right and the workers would get sick something horrible. By the end of that year I was a lass of ten, had emigrated, started fresh and was starting to see the light of being in the land of milk and honey. But. before me next birthday, my parents were dead and I was entrusted into the hands of the Sisters at the orphanage. My uncle couldn't support another girl, and he ended up passing not long after in a steel accident.

I spent many nights after my ma died wondering why I had left my familiar island for this country. I wished so much that she could assure me everything would work out, that I would have the life that she knew America would bring me. I wished she'd tell me to work hard, to love and allow myself to be loved; she'd have told me that above all else, I was still her Sherrie, and no matter why had happened, or would happen, in the end, I would find happiness.

In the end, even though that end came quicker than thought, I found happiness again in my life. I found a family that took me in as though I was their own daughter. When I got sick both you and Master Edward tended to me diligently. I think the last thing I can remember in life is Edward playing his piano while I fell asleep. I died dreaming of you and Mr. Edward meeting my Mam and Da –in the end, I had both my families and I was happy."

"Thank you Sherrie," I respond once she stops weaving her tale. "I'm grateful you shared that with me."

A smile breaks across her face, a knowing smile. "Mrs. Masen, You are a mother of an extraordinary son. One who had always done that which is good and admirable. You raised him to be that way. He Loves you dearly and forever will, even in the faintest of memories," taking my hand with her chilled fingers and tightly grasping, she smiles, "Whatever it is you wish to tell him will be the message he will want to hear."

A lump has formed in my throat and I give a faint nod, "Thank you Sherrie," I say as I take her into my arms, hugging her like the daughter I see her as.

"You best get started on that letter though Miss. You only have a day and a half left," Sherrie mumbles into my ear. "I think today Master Edward and Missus Bella will be going to the lake—tis a cloudy day, his skin won't be a problem. The house is ours for a couple hours more. The time has come to decide how to talk to your son."

* * *

I leaned my head on Edward's shoulder as we drove down the tiny streets of our Chicago neighborhood. A thin layer of dusk had began to settle on the evening and I was absolutely exhausted. The day had been enjoyable. After consulting with three weather stations, I had convinced Edward that I wanted to go on a boat ride around the Lake he had grew up in as a human. What I had forgotten was how much I had avoided water since my cliff diving experience months earlier. In the end, all that was accomplished by my desired trip was Edward wearing a captains hat and looking like a Greek god of the sea, wind blowing through his hair and the softest glints of sparkles shining around his uncovered skin. As for me, I spent the day watching him at the helm, dressed in a ludicrous orange life-vest praying the day might soon come when I was allowed to walk around merrily by his side, sparkling as well.

"We're almost home," he mused, not sure weither or not I was awake. I can feel someone playing with my hair as he continues, "You had a busy day."

"I had a fun day," I corrected him, lifting my head and looking up at his warm eyes. "I got to spend all of it with you."

He gave a warm chuckle. "You love me more then I deserve at times Bella. You almost looked a shade green—it clashed horribly with your vest, I'm afraid you reminded me of a pumpkin on occasion."

I bump his side and scowl. "When I say one of those goofy romantic lines Edward, that's not cue for you to tell me that I looked like the great pumpkin."

"I know," he grins, taking a firm hold on my hand, "But I promised Emmett that'd I say just one line he would've. Now that that's taken care of, may I sincerely promised that you were the most beautiful Great Pumpkin I've ever had the honor of sailing with?"

"Nice save" I answer, rolling my eyes as I feel the faint but familiar feeling of his lips on my head. "Why did you promise Emmett this again?"

"It was a simple request, that's all," Edward answered coolly, "After myself, Alice and Esme, I think Emmett has the softest spots for you. As much as Rosalie loathes you at times, Emmett loves you. Humor is his way of saying hello."

"Ah, I see," I answered, trying to imagine the look on his face when Edward passed along the Great Pumpkin message. I would only have my revenge _after_ I beat him at a wrestling match which could be only weeks away. . .

"What are you thinking about?" Edward whispers as we parallel park into the front walk of our house. "You know I think you're a beautiful non-pumpkin right?" he asks, searching my eyes as though he's convinced that he has caused a crash in the sometimes fragile self-esteem.

"Nothing," I shoot out all to quickly, "Just thinking about hitting the sack that's all."

"You're sure you will be alright tonight?" Edward inquires opening my door and then taking my hand as we walk the steps up. "Of course I will. You need to hunt after all—and we need to make sure the house in Ashland is ready," I grin. The stay in Chicago is only meant to be a temporally one. As it would be impossible to stay in one of the most highly populate cities after my transformation, Carlisle had suggested Edward and I staying where Edward had learned abstinence. He wasn't excited about this part of his hunting but I knew very well it was one step closer to what was necessary for me to be with him forever.

Currently, however I wasn'tquiet wild on Edward leaving. While I knew very well Edward needed to hunt, the faint memory of the midnight maid from last night chilled my insides knowing that I'd be alone in the Masen Manor all the long dark night. "When are you going to go again?"

"I need to head out to soon. It's not to far from here when you put it into relativity. I'll be back before sun up," he kissed my forehead as he opened the door. "Will you stay till I fall asleep?" I ask in a small voice as he lifts me into his arms, answering my question with a whisper in my ear. "I'd stay with you till the end of the world if you'd ask me to."

"Well, that can easily be arranged," I smile to my self feeling the cool press of his lips to my face as we enter the bedroom and he gently lays me down. I feel a strong arm wrap itself around me and a lullaby begins to play in my ear as I loose my faint consciousness at the touch of his lips.

As though clock work, I wake as the last bell rings for midnight. Turning over to my side I see a small note laying on Edward's side of the bed and I remember that he is out for a moment. Rising from the covers, I pull on an old housecoat, as well as Edward's socks at the foot of the bed, and walk down the stairs again.

I had been under the impression that for my sanity's sake, the best thing to do was to face my fear of the darkness and image of that Sherrie girl was dead and not a ghost haunting Edward and I. There was no reason for her to, even if there was a ghost. From what Edward had told me, she didn't think of him anymore than a brother, thus it would be impossible to phantom that she was out to get me because I had married him. I entered the kitchen and it was just as though it was when Edward and I left earlier in the day, except my of dishes were now rinsed clean—probably just a chore Edward had attended to when I was getting dressed.

There was no tea cup waiting. There was no bubbly smile. There wasn't even the slighest inclination that the pretty housemaid had been there. There was nothing but me and the kitchen, yet there was something inside me that stressed that there had to be something going on. Something that was leading me on my search through the house. Edward would complain that I was an inquisitive creature, and that it was my sense of wandering that drove me into situations of Vampires, Werewolves and possibly ghosts.

Casually I filled a glass with water; with the soothing sounds from the tap, I decided that my search would only lead to me getting frightened which would translate into another little story for Edward to tell Alice when we returned from our honeymoon. Shutting the water off, I turned up the stairs, clutching a glass of water in one hand and began heading back to Edward and I's room when my attention was grabbed by the open door of the former Mrs. Masens study.

The faint lace curtains that normally covered the French windows were blowing, possibly from the wind. We hadn't opened a window, and it didn't sound to windy outside—despite the chill inside telling me to return into my bed and wait for Edward, I inched my way forward, my feet creaking on the hardwood floor as I entered the room.

It was vacant. The window was closed. It must have been that draft that Edward had been telling me about the first day. However, my attention was drawn to an old crystal oil-lamp, slightly glowing next to the piano with the faintest flicker of light.

"That's odd," I say aloud, hoping that it stops the goosebumps climbing up and down my arms. "Edward said Esme hadn't kept any oil in the lamps when renovations were done. They're just meant for display..."

"That's a pity when you think of it; that lamp sends the most beautiful shades of light when it's lit. Sherrie must have lit it before she left." A female voice behind me answers. I whip around, looking at the woman lying on the day bed.

She looks tall, even sitting down. Her brown hair with familiar bronze tints is piled up on her head in such a way I'm convinced I've walken into Anne of Green Gables again, only this woman belonged in every way in Anne's time: it is her past, it was her present, and it has been carried on throughout the centuries. She is wearing a yellow dress with little needlework around the neckline that is finished with lace covering the neck up to her jaw line, bell sleeves are also addressed with lace. On first glance she looks as though she and Esme could've been sisters, her mouth set in such a kind expression as though it never had uttered a harsh word against anyone. The woman's cheek bones were high, complementing her deep emerald eyes that sparkled among the setting of the oil lamp. The profile is what captures me most; it's strong willed, feminine, and graceful. She reminds me of someone I was once upon a time told about; but this someone is dead, Carlisle and Edward said so... this shouldn't be happening...this couldn't be happening.

And yet it was.

Her voice is warm like honey as she lifts herself from the chair and walks towards me, her yellow dress blowing gently as she walks. "Hello Bella," she says as she takes my hand in her's. "Please don't be frightened of me, I don't mean to scare you."

My eyes are wide as I feel the sudden chill of her touch and I notice that her skin matches the same pale of the girl I had met the night before. Then I notice her hand, and a ring that lies on one finger distinctly matches _my_ wedding ring. "Who are you? How do you know me?" I stammer out as I trying at walk backwards away from her and her erring presence.

She continues towards me unfazed. "My name is Elizabeth, and I know you because you're married to my little boy."

My eyebrows arch and a face of confusion mixes in with my growing fear. "Mrs. Masen?"

Some young brides anticipate meeting their mother-in-law. Other's dread it. I had never anticipated having to meet one but at the sight of the woman who slowly began to remind me of Esme I did the only thing a new bride would do if they met their undead mother-in law: I fainted.

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An: Alright, that may be all for now; I'm sorry if it seems i went over the top with Sherrie... she was one of my favorite little characters ( if I had let her and Quincy surrvive the Influnza, you can bet sure as heck they would've gotten married--that would've taken care of Edna...oh well.) and i felt she needed a little attention. Thanks for reading now remember to review! After all, Lizzie and Bella are going to talk--duh duh duh.Kait Hobbit


	8. The Other Mrs Masen

disclaimer: The only character i really own is Lizzie, and I don't even own her. Dont come after me. I'm a poor college student. love-Hobbit

AN: Ok- wasn't hijacked in the rainforest by the rebels, wasn't sent to Sibereia by the government, I went to college and alas, broke my flash drive with all my stories (and considering I've had this flash drive since my second year of high school, my heart broke more than it had when I realized William's probabaly going to marry Kate Middleton and not Kait Hobbit). SO after a long absence, (and my mutterings at the flash drive as I brought it back it [all hail macs!]) here's the next chapter---

The Other Mrs. Masen

"Bella, wake up," I start, shaking her shoulder. Oh this would just be lovely. Edward would come into the room in a few more hours and find Bella sprawled across the floor in a dead swoon. "Great job Lizzie, you've killed your daughter in law. Edna would be so proud," I mumble to myself as I try pulling Bella up onto the bed. While Ghosts can travel through matter, with enough concentration we can also lift things.

Every ounce of concentration I had was spent on trying to lift Bella. I was getting successful, half of her was situated on the daybed, and then she woke up. Her brown eyes darting around at her dilemma. "Edward?" she called out half afraid, "Edward—"

"Edward is in Wisconsin Bella," I answer as she pulls the rest of her body up to the bed. She looks at me again with shocked eyes, as though she is going through a spasm of insanity. The Dark amber eyes that I dreamt of ninety years ago stare at me again. "Are you real?" she asks, her voice weak and shaky.

"Well, I'm real in the sense that you aren't insane," I say with a smile. "I was very real once. I was human—as real as you are. In many ways I am still real, only with some limits."

"So you're a _real_ ghost?" Bella laughs to herself, the signs of hysteria creaking her still wobbly voice. "Could you explain how I am the only one that meets supernatural creatures? I mean no offense, it's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Masen, but as if I didn't know enough mythical creatures, let's add a ghost—you are a ghost right? Not a witch?"

"No, I am a ghost—I see you're confused, Sherrie warned me that direct contact seemed to shake you from your senses—"

"Yes, Sherrie would know that after sneaking up to me last night," she swings her legs over the daybed and walks towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, my dear mother-in-law hallucination, I'm going back to my room. Edward's going to laugh so hard when I tell him about this dream—"

"Isabella, I want to talk to you," I call out as she stops dead in her tracks. She turns around and looks at me rather shocked, as though I have scolded her as I would if she was a little child. "This is the first time I've gotten to talk to someone from the real world in over ninety years. I have been a silent observer in my own house for near a century. I can stand in silence no more—"

"I'm not having a hallucination?" Bella asked, her eyebrows starting to relax from their knitted position.

"No your not," I smile as I sit down on the daybed, waiting for her to follow suit. "But dear one, if my Eddie's mother had been dead and then found her way to my study I would guarantee you anything that I would've have thrown that crystal lamp at her out of fright." She gives a slight chuckle, "Good to know I'm not insane."

"Yes, it's marvelous to know. Eddie was a little curious as to your sanity levels when we found our you and Edward had married—"

"Eddie?" she asks turning to me with another confused glance. "Edward's father. You see when Edward was born we knew that he was the child that would carry Edward Senior's name. I wasn't going to be a wife and mother that lived calling someone Senior and Junior. It just didn't appeal to me so Edward Senior, being more—" I struggle for a minute to find the right words, "—well, I didn't want to have a son named Eddie so I settled for a husband named Eddie."

Bella nods understanding, "Is he somewhere in this house?" she asks looking around the room. "If its not rude, I'd like to get all my introductions done at once."

"He left shortly after you and Edward arrived. That story Edward told you, he said that the dead are given three days in which they can return to their earthly surroundings. When my three days started, Eddie's three days had ended."

"And he questioned my sanity levels—"

"When some normal girl marries your vampire son, you have to wonder how normal the girl actually is," I smile looking at her again. I fear I've been doing this so much after I realized that she could see mine. She looks beautiful, happy when not confused, just the picture of the girl I would want Edward to marry.

"I suppose I can understand that..." she answered, turning away from the open door she was hoping Edward would appear in and then to me. "Why can I see you and not anyone else? Don't get me wrong—this isn't too bad. Mind you I never planned on meeting my undead mother-in-law. Or my other one considering Esme's technically…"

"Sherrie was right—you do ramble don't you?" I laugh, and then turn and look at her. "Why don't we go on a walk my dear? We have much to talk about'

"Such as why I—" she starts rising with me and heading down the hall and up the stairs to the garden.

"Yes, we'll talk about that too. But only after you tell me about you're story."

* * *

It was slightly odd. Sitting under the moonlight with 'Lizzie' in her rose garden. I was starting to wonder if I'd ever get to the point where I would be comfortable as a magnet to mythical creatures. It was certainly not as uncomfortable as I initially thought, but then again, it could have been the bump on the head from when I fell.

We had spent a good hour talking about me. My likes and dislikes, how old I was (it was at this time I was grateful that in her time period, people married young all the time); she asked about my parents and praised me for turning out so normal amidst' thee divorce environment I had been subjected too.' Once again, Victorian values had its ups and downs compared to my modern day.

When she started to question my history with Edward I didn't know how much I should revel. Apparenlty from her questions, Heaven wasn't what I had envisioned. I was always under the belief that somewhere in the great unknown all of my goldfish, hamsters and grandparents where watching my life unfold as though it was the latest Julia Roberts film. Yet with the question's Edward's mother was asking I realized that that wasn't the case. I was quickly learning that for once, I could edit out some things more than others.

After all, there was no reason for her to know that after only a few days of dating her son I was chased across the country by another vampire who was out to kill me and destroy Edward.

What sort of Mother would want to hear how her daughter-in-law jumped off a cliff hoping to hear her son' scolding her—even though it wasn't her son but the girl's strange, warpped sense of security as the son had left her.

And better yet, who in there right mind would tell there mother-in-law that she nearly lead to her son's murder in Italy and looming murder in the United States should he not change her into a vampire.

No one in the right mind.

"So how has this courtship been for you both?" Lizzie asked playing with a rose on a near by vine. Her attention switching from the petals to my eyes. "I'm sorry—is that too personal?"

"Oh no—not at all," I respond, looking at the emerald eyes and imaging them in Edward's. "It was—interesting. Never a dull moment that's for sure."

"Edward asked your father's permission first right?" the motherly figure asked, looking at me with sharpened eyes. "I can face the facts that some things have changed since Eddie and I's time—please don't tell me you eloped."

"Far from it—is sister Alice planned one of the largest wedding's the Olympic Peninsula has probably ever seen. I think there were flowers flown in from Holland Alice went so extreme…"

Her sharpened eyes grew soft at the talk of details. "Can you tell me about the wedding?" she sighed. "Eddie and I had always looked forward to Edward's marriage. To see him find some happiness. You'll understand someday Bella. Seeing your child happy and wedded, it's an outstanding dream."

Thinking of Edward and I's likelihood of having a child I just smiled and nodded. _Yup—like that's ever going to happen._

"The wedding was beautiful," I answered, my mind turning back to that day not long ago. "His sister Rosalie played the piano, like I said Alice had the entire house turned into another world…and then there was Edward," A smile broke across my face almost involuntarily but strong and vibrant nonetheless. When I walked down those stairs and saw him waiting there, I just knew. I knew everything was going to be all right. It was as if he was shining, and the moment I reached him at the end of the aisle, I felt as though I was shining too."

I turned to the ghostly matron, who thanks too the moon seemed to be shining as well. "I'm glad he found you dear Bella," her voice smiled, taking my hand and rubbing it with her own. "Heaven's known's he's wandered this earth too long alone."

I gave a slight nod of agreement. _And heaven can only guess how much longer I'm going to have to wait to be sealed to him forever._

"It's getting late—Edward will be home in the morning and wondering why you're still asleep," Lizzie Masen sighed. "I die tomorrow at 5. I fear this could be the last time I'll see you for a while my dear."

"Wait, you die—"

"Just like Edward told you in his story," she smiled bitter sweetly.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, looking at the woman with the layers of auburn hair laired on top of each other, her high cheekbones and glistening eyes.

"Yes," the elegant mother said, "You can tell Edward."

* * *

**AN: Somewhere in the book of 'how to write' it talks about cliff hangers. I hope this wasn't a bad one. Know that I love you all, and please remember to review! it makes me happy and more likely to post at a quicker pace then otherwise. Review or not: Hobbit still loves you. **


	9. Walking Two Worlds

AN: Thanks guys for all the story adds, faving and reviews etc. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter, I'm really kicking myself for not having finished this story way back when-I think I had a better grip with Lizzie and Bella once upon a time... hang in there with me, It should all add up in the end. Reviews are still much appreciated. Happy Memorial Day Weekend- KH.

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"Tell Edward what?" Isabella asked confused as I continued to trim some of the Roses in my hands. _Yes Lizzie, _I thought to myself _What are you going to tell your Edward. Mummy's dead but she's been watching you and your young bride—you and your father have similar taste in rings, I approve? Come on Lizzie, what are you going to say? "Believe me, Mrs. Masen—I've told Edward some things and he's taken them well, other things we just don't bring up any more. I don't know how well he'd react to the fact I'm the only one that can see his deceased family" she finished her hands rubbing the temples of her head. "I feel sorry for the kid on the Sixth Sense, seeing dead people is harder than you'd think."_

"I'm trying to understand that myself," I answered, setting the rose down in a basket the red of the petals still bright in the moonlight. After I made sure she was in bed I'd arrange the flowers I trimmed and would put them on the table. Just like I had done before the epidemic struck. _Maybe subtle hints could bring back memories, _my heart whispered, _maybe—_"But Bella, I need my son to know me. To remember he had another mother who loved him very very much. He doesn't remember all the events of September and October 1918 but for Eddie and I, they are the day's I remember most."

She turned her eyes from where she had been staring and looked at me, her face calm and composed _she's pretty strong, _I thought to myself, _minus her previous fainting spell, she's taken all of this quiet well. _'Lizzie, can I ask you something first—before we figure out how I'm going to get Edward to believe me on this.'

_Perhaps I thought too soon—_I couldn't help it. I raised my eyebrow. "Go a head Bella, I haven't been asked questions in a while. I hope I'm still good at this advice business…"

She looked nervous, her composure slowly fading away into awkward shyness as though she was just about to confined in her husband's mother a scandalous secret. "Edward's promised to turn me into a Vampire. It was one of the reasons we got married—if I would marry him, then to ensure we'd be with each other forever he was going to turn me into one…"

"Ah—but you're unsure? Or he is?" I ask. I had always wondered about Edward's transformation, if it was too painful or if he could've died in the process. Eddie and I went beyond in the hospital, to the other side of where ever the dead go, the last we saw of our living Edward was Dr. Cullen wheeling him to the morgue.

"He's unsure. He doesn't want to cause me that level of pain. I tell him it's nothing compared to the pain life would be without him—but you know your son. He doesn't like being the cause of other people's burdens, he doesn't like to see those he loves suffer."

_She knows him well, _a voice in my head whispers, _How many times had he asked about Quincy and Sherrie in the hospital? _"Alright-" I replied, as I noticed she was waiting for me to process this before going on.

"I'm not unsure of the fact I love him. I'm not unsure about the fact I want to be with him forever. But—Edward says sometimes people die—that things go wrong," Bella explained, using her hands as she spoke to better flow her nervous voice. "I'm not afraid of becoming a vampire—but death—"

_Ah, _"I will not say it's painless. In full honesty it depends how you do it," I explain. My mind flooding back to the day years and years ago. " I remember that the influenza fever was very strong, I was sweating something awful and I remember I had just seen Dr. Cullen…"

_Mrs. Masen, you're burning up_, he had said as he took his hand of my head_._ It was usually so cold but today it felt like dead weight on my forehead. I had hoped he wasn't getting sick as well, I was worried I had given him the disease. I hadn't even thought that perhaps I was the one who had gotten worse.

I had asked for Edward's fate. I had asked for Dr. Cullen to do everything in his power to save my son from dying. I didn't know that was going to include him becoming a vampire. I just asked he be kept safe, and for me that meant alive in any form, even if it meant he sparkled.

"I can remember lying in bed and feeling the fever break. Or at least what I thought was the fever breaking. Rather it was the feeling of the body and spirit separating temporarily— I felt happy, that Edward and I had survived. I was at peace and felt as though I could take on anything. Dying doesn't hurt Bella, if that's what you're afraid of, don't. Although the road there might be painful—heavens knows that influenza was a bit of a stinker—actually dying is nothing."

She gave a weak smile, "Have you met any vampires in heaven, you know, those that were destroyed?"

_Someone could destroy Edward?_ I thought alarmed, something my face surly showed. No one had told me this before, and obvious by the face Bella was making she could tell. "Don't worry, it's really hard and I don't know of many that do end up that way. Edward's safe," she promised, with a zeal in her voice. "I won't let anything happen to him."

"Thank you," I gently whisper. "I haven't met any people in our Heavenly Chicago that have gone beyond as a vampire. But I have to believe that when all is said and done, all things will be made right and Edward, Dr. Cullen and Esme will be able to join us up there," I say with a faint smile, repeating the prayer that I've constantly wished for years. "Does that help?" I look at Bella who gives a nod.

"Good—anything else?"

"Actually I was wondering if you had any theories on why I can see you," Bella starts again. "Don't get me wrong this has been a great visit but—"

"You're worried of making a habit seeing us dead folk, yes I tried warning Sherrie about that…" I give a slight laugh, remembering Sherrie's tea-time story.

"Exactly. You probably wouldn't believe all the creatures I've run into the past few years."

"You're free to ask questions Bella," I respond. _And lord does she ask her questions, "_The only reasonable theory I can think of is the fact that you tend to walk these two worlds often."

With curiosity lit like a fire, she focused her eyes more on mine "What two worlds?"

"Between the living and the dead," I respond, turning to my flowers. "You see this Rose, when it lives, everyone sees its beauty. It's at this time everyone will treasure it, everyone will appreciate it. Yet when this rose dies, only the gardener who saw to it's care, and very few others will continue to appreciate it."

"Sorry-I love literature but I missed your message," Bella apologizes looking at the rose.

"And I've been bad at parables. Father Michaels would be the first to tell you that," I sigh, remembering all to well my dear childhood priest—and attempted to try again "You see Bella, You belong to one world, the living world. It's the one and only world we humans are meant to trod in until we're dead. You however, also trod this world with Edward, Dr. Cullen and his family who are very dead. You see both of them. And you desire to join the one you're not meant yet to enter and forsake the one where you belong. This is a weak theory, but perhaps the reason you see me is because of that desire. To be what I am now, the dead among the living."

"But you're only that three days out of a year—" Bella protested, "How is it that Edward can't see you then?"

"I don't know," I mutter. "I suppose it's the fact that we're both involuntarily in our places. Perhaps since I'm not always present as a dead among the living, he can't see me. Perhaps while some lines can be crossed, to cross my line would to cross a chasm that separates Edward and I."

"I guess that makes me the bridge," Bella laughed, "Yes," I join her, "you're our bridge."

"So what do you want me to tell Edward—mum dies at five, remember?"

"No," I surprise myself with my answer, _He's walking a different Path Lizzie, _a voice like Eddie sounds in my head _don't confuse him too much—_" If you get a chance, just tell him his mother loves him still."

"Will do," Bella answers. I smile, and look for a final time at the roses "You should head to bed, Edward will be home soon and if you're up talking to yourself on the rooftops—"

"Good point," Bella smiles and heads down the stairs before turning to look at me halfway, "So is this the last time I'll see you Mrs. Lizzie?"

"For a while yes—"

She walks back up the stairs and gives me a hug, _it's odd to have a human hug again,_ my ghostly self thinks as I can feel it but not fully, "Good bye then, I'll take care of Edward," she promises, as she returns to walking down the steps. "Oh Bella—could you do me a favor?"

"Yes Mrs Lizzie?"

_Don't be too selfish-_my Eddie voice counsels in my brain. "Every so often, if you could—could you and Edward make more an effort to visit during Eddie and I's death week. It's really been too long,"

A smile crosses her face, "Of course Mrs. Lizzie, we'll look forward to it. Are you going to come down or should I close the door?"

I look back at my garden, "You go a head dear, I'll be alright. Goodnight Isabella,"

She waves and closes the door as I cross the room to where I can look down on the street bellow. Much has changed in ninety years, but at night-especially in these early hours of the morning, it hasn't changed at all. A slight wind from the west, a ruffle of fallen leaves. If I were alive, Eddie and I would be sitting and looking at the stars together, all while planning our next twenty years together.

"_So long as there's still a Europe to see after this war, how about we all go to the Alps as a family next winter," Eddie had whispered in my ear on one such a night. "You, me, Edward—dearest if you want to we could even bring along Sherrie and Quincy," he had promised as I rested my head on his shoulder. _

"_Now that Edward's done with St. Anthony's we can go on more adventures- we can summer in Canada—we can take a steamer to somewhere lovely—_

_As long as I'm with you sweetheart, I had always smiled, turning up to look at him, I'll be perfectly happy._

_Well, that settles the matter, I'll book passage on the Olympic as soon as this ruddy war ends!_

A good hour passed. It's amazing how memory lane can do that. It must be near three in the morning, my visit with Bella having been a shorter one. I close my eyes and listen for a moment. I can hear running from down the street. I give a faint smile, Edward was almost home.

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	10. Coming Home, Again

An: I haven't updated this story in over two years. And yet I still get alerts on a monthly basis. Apparently you haven't given up on this story and for that reason I present the last (albeit somewhat rushed) chapter.

Elizabeth, this is for you.

* * *

((E))

A cool gust of wind brushes the roses in the faint moonlight. I set them down and see my son slowing down, walking normally past the houses he grew up in. Like clockwork, he pats the top of the stone lion's head on the steps of the Johnson's old home, he fingers the autumn leaves from the Davidsons' bush and pauses outside 254 Cherry Lane, just as he had done years and years ago.

"Are you up there mother?" my Edward would call, walking backwards a few steps in hopes of catching my eye, "Mother, are you there?"

"I'll be down in a minute," I would reply, "Sherries in the kitchen, I'll meet you down there."

My Edward would then start whistling some little tune, and disappear through the front doors and race me to the kitchen. I'd hear all his adventures, and after a quarter of an hour, Quincy Whitiker would show up to steal him a way for an hour or so.

But time had been set and these conversations are locked in 1918. I look down, Edward Looks up, but his eyes don't meet my own. He stares t the stars as though he's attempting a riddle that can never fully be answered because he has forgotten what was asked. He knows he should see something more than the night sky, but the memory of what, or _who_ he should see is clouded under his topaz eyes.

_What could I have done?_ I think as his gaze breaks and the whistle of a bird call echoes through the air. _If I could rush down and talk to him as I did before would he understand why I had made my final request to Carlisle? _

I leave the roses and rush down the stars back to the main floor. I'm in the kitchen and watching Edward pour a drink of water; it's as though time is mocking me with his shadow routine.

"Hasn't aged a day has he Mrs. Masen?" a boyish voice chuckles from my side. In his tan suit jacket, sandy hair flopping as it always had stood Quincy Whitiker, hands in his pockets as his eyes search Edward, now admiring that dreadful watercolor Edna gave me for Christmas in 1907—he used to swear that if Eddie forgot the firewood in winter, that painting would make excellent kindling…

"What are you doing here Quince?" I ask.

"Sherrie figured you would be in want of company," he answered turning his attentive gaze on Edward, "And I had to see for myself if the rumors were true and Edward had found himself a lady friend."

"He has. Quite charming girl. We were chatting in the garden a few hours ago," I reply.

Quincy blushes and for a moment I wonder if Sherrie or his mother has sent him, "Well, Ed owes me a box of cigars then. Said I'd marry before he did—still counts even if I'm dead. He's not exactly living and he can get a bride…"

"Eddie will settle the debt, " I joke, putting my hand on his shoulder, " Us, here in the kitchen. It's like old times."

Quincy smiled " I was sitting in my room next door. An elderly couple own the house now and have my room set up as a guest room—anyway, I heard the blue jay call Mr. Masen taught us when we were boys. I half expected him to see me when I came in just now."

"He can't see us Quincy," I whisper gently knowing this tares him down just as it does me.

"He can't but his wife can," Quincy answers harshly, resembling his mother in a flight of hidden jealously bubbling to the surface.

"Quincy—"

"You keep trying your type writer Mrs. Masen—Mr. Masen was telling me about it, and I think we could easily deliver a letter to Edward," he says, the light extinguishing as Edward returns upstairs, "I'll see if I can reach—"

"Isabella?' I suggest, "his wife?"

A coy little smile turns on his face, as though he's a little boy whose just learned a new word. "Yes, Isabella."

((B))

I wake the next morning to find the perfect roses of the garden arranged in a vase across the room. Its in that moment I realize that I _did_ meet Edward's mother last night. The dead one anyway. Edward is out picking up somethings while I get ready; looking on the vanity, my eyes catch a portrait of Elizabeth Masen and her husband and I wonder how I can make Edward remember.

Its still early morning. I hear a knock on the door downstairs and I'm glad I've thrown on some street clothes. Hesitantly, I run down the stairs, nearly tripping on the umbrella holder in the process and look through the cloudy glass to see whose there.

"Delivery for Mrs. Edward Masen," a boyish voice says. _Emmett _ I smirk _must want to harass us cross country, dear brother-in-law of mine._

I open the door and smile welcomingly at first but feel my face freeze in an instant. The delivery boy looks familiar but I know I've never seen him face to face before. He's not wearing a FedEx uniform, but a tan blazer and white slacks, as though he's going to go to a boardwalk set in 1920's America. The package in his hand is a small wrapped rectangle tied up in white string, just as neat in appearance as the person carrying it.

He cracks a hesitant smile. "Good Morning Mrs. Bella."

"Quincy?" I whisper, hugging the door as though I'm counting on it to support me. Three dead people in less than three days. This was getting ridiculous. I felt as though I was slowly becoming the Doctor Doolittle of the undead and dead alike.

"May I come in?" he asks and I realize my hold on the door has been leaning it closed. I budge it open and he leads the way in to the sitting room and takes a large leather chair by the empty fire.

"This is Edward's spot, never got to sit here," he's smirking again like a little boy in a toy store.

"My husband will be home soon" I lie, although it has to be somewhat true. _And when he returns I'd rather he not see his young wife talking to herself in the study._

"He looks me over and nods, "And I don't have much time either. I'm dead by 10," he looks at his pocket watch. "Humph—Quarter to nine already…."

"But Elizabeth says its sunset when you all—"

"Sherrie, Mr and Mrs Masen all had relatively peaceful passing's," he says and I notice his voice sounds a little harder. "I didn't have a good death day. Went in and out of delirium towards the end, my mother was having a fit and pouring every medicine she had down my brother and I's throat—thrashed around in fits. 10 am I unraveled. Ms. Masen figures 10 am's when my connection time with you will break. I'll be with her till sundown but probably not with you. If I do it'll be on and off."

He pauses a moment, "Of course, neither of us understand your gift, we're all trying to use you as our mouth piece."

"More like your carrier pigeon," I roll my eyes and then stop realizing Elizabeth could be near. "Don't tell her I said that, I really don't mind passing her messages along—it's just."

He's laughing so I assume he's not offended, "You have wit and look good in bloomers, all I could ever have hoped for Edward."

"Don't make me see If I can slap a ghost," I warn looking at my blue jeans and then at him again.

"Well pigeon, I have something I've been meaning to give to Edward," he explained lifting the package. "Back when we were living, that September He and I went to the lake where I nicked his journal. It was revenge for something or other—I think I was trying to blackmail into joining up with me in the army, " his eyes fade as though he's still debating the idea. " Anyway, I meant to return it but neither of us made it out of that month. If you could give that to him—"

"Of course," I take the package holding Edward's journal. "His moms' hoping I'll help him remember?"

"I also have a request from Mrs. Masen," he stands up as though he knows Edward will return soon and he doesn't want to be found in his chair.

"Yes?"

" She and Mr Masen are buried in St. Henry's off of Devon and Ridge," he said as though he was giving their new address rather than revealing a grave. "Mrs. Masen—while forward thinking as she was, tends to be a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to her death days; always walks past her grave as the sun sets on her third day. She was hoping Edward would come and see her off?"

The front door opens before I can answer. In comes Edward with a bag of groceries Just the bare essentials for me. He wants to be on the road and headed for Ashland Wisconsin tonight—

Quincy gives a wink and then disappears as sunlight streams though the windows.

"Good morning Bella," Edward smiles entering the room. He looks at me, and then the package.

An eyebrow goes up. "What's this?"

I subdue a smile, "A gift from an old friend of yours."

"Old friend?"

"I was wandering through the house and found it. It has your mom's name on it—I suppose it's yours now."

He sets down the groceries and unties the string, letting it fall as he opens the paper. A leather brown journal with yellowed pages, along with a paper note folded on top.

"_Quince,"_ Edward smirks for a moment and despite the morning sun, the sound of a morning blue jay echoes the room as Quincy Whitiker smiles at my husband before he walks through the exterior wall and on to the streets of Chicago.

((E))

I sit next to a weeping angel as the church bell marks the half hour. Four Thirty. Thirty minutes till I disappear for another year. Half an hour for Edward and Bella to still come and find me here—to let me see my boy one more time.

I spent the better part of the day working on a letter. Each one more complex and ridiculous than the one before. I had wished I'd just added something to the journal before Quincy returned it. Edward had been fixed on that old book all day, calling Bella over to read things he'd written to her. Laughing at old memories about he and Quincy, some Jimmy Swan, Sherrie and Eddie and I.

Instead of the letter that was meant to rival an epistle from Paul, I wrote a simple note. Typed and signed, my signature in ink rather than typed—and left it in care taker's office. Quincy had tucked it into one of the old books that recorded who was buried where and had written his own little note that should anyone come to call on the late Mr. and Mrs Masen of Cherry lane, the letter was to be given to them.

Quincy sat at my right wearing the dark mourning clothes that had been worn to our funerals. Between the two of us, we looked like two companions that had slipped through time. He in his dark jacket, a mourner's ribbon tied about his arm, while I wore a black mourning dress, with a parasol, leather gloves and a black lace veil draped down from my hat.

I remembered that at my funeral, Carlisle had forced Edward to come. That had terrified me. I'd only been dead three days and my son needed to be dragged to my funeral. As though he'd already forgotten me. The time when I lived, we were humans aspiring to compete with the Gods, completing feats that would secure our place in memory—and not even a son could remember his mother.

"Look," Quincy nudged, pulling me up on my feet, "It seems we have company."

A handsome couple strolled our way. She wore a sapphire dress, he a light shirt and khaki colored slacks. In his hand was a bouquet of daises and the familiar roses of Cherry Lane.

They strolled to the marker where Eddie and I remained. If Edward looked to his right, he'd see his grandparents marker. Bella's eyes showed more Memory than Edward as they gazed at the names etched in stone. Bella showed grief where Edward appeared unaffected at the least.

An old care taker hobbled over and began talking with them. He was folding and unfolding a letter in his hands, looking nervous as he explained himself.

"My note wad dated 1922," Quincy confessed over the man's babbling. "Old man's probably having a hard time explaining himself."

Lifting my veil, I watch as Edward takes the note. He is right in front of me again. If he reached his hand out he'd touch my cheek. But rather, he scans the paper. His mouth moves over my final words to him. _My darling boy—I prayed you'd live and now you have and always will. A mother is an angel without wings, and yet, I am still yours, and I always always will be._

He looks at the note one last time and then walks to the grave marker to set down the flowers. I follow him and kneel down kissing his forehead, as though he was still the little boy dying of influenza.

He looks up and his eyes meet mine. For a moment, I'm convinced he sees me. Sees Quincy. Perhaps he sees all of Chicago who walks the streets as the clock strikes five.

"Mother—" he whispers and I know he sees me. "_Mothe_r."

((E))

The years have come and gone. Cherry Lane was quiet and empty in the years after we hosted Bella and Edward. I had hoped Bella would have remembered he promise to visit, but as Eddie reminds me, "It's not the job of the living to keep up with the dead, even if she is married to a vampire."

But now I sit on the garden roof with dear Eddie, wearing my yellow lace gown, the sun setting my hair ablaze as it begins its descent across the Chicago skyline. A cab has stopped outside Cherry Lane and I find myself catching my breath.

First exits Edward who pauses to help Bella out of the cab. They're laughing about something or another, still smiling. Both look unchanged since our last meeting and I assume that she's joined Edward in every possible way, a slight sparkle reflecting on her skin as she brings out the luggage.

But Edward remains there, with his hand outstretched helping another girl with long curls out of the car. Long auburn curls that seem so new and yet so familiar.

Bella takes the girl by the shoulders and whispers something in her ear. The Girl looks up and finds my eyes with a blazing smile, her hand offering a hesitant wave as though she's still not sure of herself.

"Looks like the hippies reproduced, "Eddie chuckles looking down at the scene below. "She has her grandmother's hair, doesn't she?"

Though our pathways were never easy, in life or in death, and our lives are stitched together in a frayed quilt attempting to close the gaps of time, the Masens of 254 Cherry Lane are proud. Are loved. And at long last, are finally Home.

* * *

AN: In many ways, I feel as though I rushed the ending of this story. I'm sorry about that, but this is how I more or less planned to complete the story. It felt weird writing this as I am not longer a Twilight fan, but as I have said before and will say again, this has been Elizabeth Masen's story more than it ever was Edward and Bella. (If there are errors (and I can promise you there are,) please excuse them as this was a spur of the moment, missed the beta, update.)

That being said, I still appreciate all those who still read, review, subscribe and add this story to the different communities and boards. For a story that hasn't been updated in over two years, you lot are very persistent but very admirable all the same. I started this story the summer Breaking Dawn (the BOOK) came out. Now five years later my writing style's improved, and I'm going in for my last year of college. Yikes! A special thank you to those who have followed this throughout the years. Thank you so much for your adding and constant encouragement of this story (that's what got me to write this last chapter to begin with!) Please don't use that complement as a cry for a third Elizabeth Masen story; I think that little bit at the end can serve as an Epilogue and you can fill in the blanks from there. It's what we do as readers right? fill in the missing bits? That's why we write these things, isn't it?

This will be my last Twilight Fan Fiction. I will truly missing writing Eddie, Elizabeth, Quincy and Sherrie, and all our friends on Cherry Lane, but I know where I can find them. I'm not done with fan fiction all together, and if you prefer longer chapters and a trilogy, check out my "Dried Lilies" story [A James and Lily Potter love story] avaliable on my fanfiction homepage.

Thanks again guys! Cheers,

Kait Hobbit.


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